


Couple

by WatMcGregor



Series: Cop, Couple, Coping [2]
Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatMcGregor/pseuds/WatMcGregor
Summary: Can Ben maintain his relationship when Phil's back in the picture?
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Series: Cop, Couple, Coping [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080875
Kudos: 6





	Couple

ONE  
Ben surveys the room and ponders where to place the china West Highland Terrier he’s kept as a reminder of his old neighbour, Gladys. It’s been three years since she died, and he wonders if she might be looking down on him and marvelling at how much his life has changed. Knowing her, she’d be wearing a smug, ‘told ya so’ face.  
He carries the ornament carefully over to the mantelpiece above the Victorian fireplace and sets it down gently on one end of it. The large room is littered with boxes of their stuff. He’s no idea why they’ve got so much; it must be mainly Callum’s. Whatever, it had taken up most of the transit van they’d hired for the move yesterday. It had taken an age to lug it all up the steps and into the flat, too, and he almost wishes he’d done what Callum had done, and gone to work today. He’s got a sneaky suspicion Callum had fabricated the story about being rota’d on for an extra day and the station being short-staffed, just to leave the bulk of the moving-in activity to Ben, but he’s not had the opportunity to quiz him on it yet. When they’d finally got everything in, they’d put together the bed and then collapsed underneath the duvet cover without even fitting it onto the duvet, and slept right through until Callum’s alarm went off at far too early an hour this morning. Not that they’d needed a duvet in any case. The weather is sweltering, just like it was the summer they’d met. It’s probably what had made packing the contents of their separate flats into the van and then unpacking it again the other end so exhausting the day before.   
He opens the sash windows as far as they’ll go and then surveys the room, trying to work out a plan of action. It would probably make more sense to sort out the kitchen first, but he wants the living room to look good for when Callum comes home. He can always do the kitchen pretty quickly after lunch.  
He shifts most of the boxes to the edges of the room and shunts the couch into place opposite the fireplace, and the armchair opposite where he’s decided the telly’s going to go; he positions the rug they’d bought together last weekend; and then dives into the nearest box and starts finding homes for all its contents.   
By the time he stops for a break at midday, the room’s looking more or less sorted. He collapses onto the couch and looks around. Who would have thought this room half-belonged to a guy who’d spent two years in a flat with absolutely no artefacts of his life? This room looks lived in already, cosy and homely, even before they’ve properly settled in. His framed picture of Paul is now on top of the bookshelf in the corner, which houses an eclectic assortment of books on one shelf, from Callum’s Andy McNab’s to Ben’s Tom of Finland. On the mantelpiece and dotted around the walls are photos of Ben and Callum together, and he’s pleased to see that his belongings account for a decent proportion of the bits and bobs that are on display.   
He checks his phone to make sure there have been no messages from Jay, the bloke he employs part-time at his business. He never tires of saying those words: ‘my business’. He’d taken up the rental on a patch of scrubby land a bus ride away along the far end of Victoria Road, and turned it into a car lot. It’s been two and a half years but it’s just started turning a tidy profit - business is so good that four or five months ago he’d been able to take on Jay, who’s worth his weight in gold and in danger of becoming a friend as much as an employee, mainly due to his ability to puncture any delusions of grandeur Ben has as his boss with just a withering look or a well-chosen word. Ben likes that about him. He’s bolshy, when he needs to be.  
There’s nothing from Jay, but there is a text from Callum. Stopped for a sarnie. Wish I was there with you x  
Ben texts back a quick reply, Don’t worry 😊 I saved the hard graft for U x, and then goes into the kitchen to sort through the boxes for something to eat.  
Callum texts again a few minutes later. Don’t work too hard. Chinese later? I can pick up on the way home. You want yr usual? x  
Ben wanders back into the living room with a packet of crisps and an apple, and texts back Perfect x then punches in the number of the car lot.   
“You managed to destroy my business empire yet?” he asks through a mouthful of crisps when Jay answers the phone.  
“On the contrary,” retorts Jay, sharp as a knife. “Now I’ve bin given free rein I’ve improved it no end. Plannin’ to float it on the stock markets by about three this afternoon. Managed to sell that Vauxhall Corsa an’ all.”  
“Yeah?” asks Ben, swallowing down his crisps and trying not to sound impressed. High mileage and a few dents to the bodywork, they’d been trying to shift the car for a few weeks. “How much?”  
“A monkey under the askin’ price,” says Jay, sounding proud.  
“Blimey! Think you might be headin’ for employee of the month mate,” says Ben.  
“I am ALWAYS employee of the month,” pronounces Jay. “How’s it goin’, playin’ house?”   
“Great so far,” says Ben. “Callum’s at work. Left all the real work to me.”  
“Got his head screwed on, that bloke,” says Jay. “I like him. You freakin’ out yet?”  
“Not so’s you’d notice,” says Ben. “Just doin’ it quietly. In me head.”  
Jay snorts. “You’ll be fine. He’s a good bloke. And the two of ya were practically livin’ together anyway, so…”  
“Yeah, but, joint rental agreement’s different, ain’t it? I can’t tell him to piss off when he gets on me wick.”  
“He NEVER gets on yer wick, mate. I’ve never heard the pair of ya ever exchange a cross word, in all the time I’ve known ya. You’ll be fine. Listen, gotta go. There’s a bloke eyein’ up the Mazda. Gotta go and work me magic.”  
“Right mate, drive a hard bargain.”  
“Always. See ya next week.”  
“See ya.”  
Ben puts the phone down and wanders around the flat as he finishes his crisps and apple, peering out at the Square from all the different windows, getting a new perspective on it all. He can just about see his dad’s car lot on the other side, the faded bunting hanging limp in the midday heat. Phil had been the subject of a long conversation, before they decided to take the flat. Could he cope with being in such close proximity to his dad again? He’s not heard a single word from him in three years. Phil had disappeared out of his life completely, or – as Callum liked to remind him – Ben had chosen to disappear out of his dad’s life. He might agree with Callum when he says it, but privately Ben knows he hadn’t had much choice once Phil disowned him for, as Phil saw it, sabotaging a business deal with Danny Hardcastle by sleeping with the Old Bill.   
The fact remains, however, that they’re practically going to be neighbours again, and Ben’s going to have to find a way of dealing with that.  
After lunch he makes quick work of sorting out the kitchen, and then moves to the bedroom, putting together the two flat-pack bedside cabinets and perusing the instructions for the matching wardrobe and chest of drawers, before realising they’re going to be two-man jobs. He’s more or less decided to call it a night when he hears a call from the living room, and Callum’s back, brandishing a bag full of Chinese takeaway.  
“You ‘ave bin busy!” he says as Ben crosses to plant a kiss on his cheek and take the food from him. Ben goes into the kitchen to get plates and cutlery, and as he’s opening the cupboard to take out a couple of beer glasses, he hears Callum call, “You don’t think the telly would be better off in the other corner?”  
Ben pops his head back into the living room and glares at him.   
“No, no!” exclaims Callum, holding his hands up in surrender. “I can see a lot of thought went into placin’ everythin’ in just the right places. Proper fang shooey in ‘ere, it is. Ignore me.”  
“Right answer,” says Ben, bringing the food and plates across to the coffee table.   
“Bin thinkin’ all day about christenin’ the bedroom,” says Callum, flopping down onto the couch.  
“Yeah?” asks Ben, sitting beside him. “Bet that surprised the good people of Walford, PC Plod walkin’ round with a stiffy all day long.” He pauses from taking the cartons of food out of the bag and peers round at Callum. “We could always heat up the food again later. Go and christen it now, if ya wanted. I mean, I know I’m irresistible. You probably can’t wait, can ya?”  
Callum takes the cutlery from Ben’s hand and lays it down on the coffee table. “You know what? That sounds like a very good idea.” He leans over and captures Ben’s lips in a kiss, and starts unfastening his jeans without even looking. Ben lies back and lets the older man undress him. It’s getting to be a bit of a kink of his, relinquishing all control to Callum – in the bedroom department at least. Not so much in other areas of their lives.  
Callum crawls over him and Ben relishes his weight on top of him. He wriggles around underneath him, getting a bit of friction going.   
“This ain’t christenin’ the bedroom,” he murmurs between kisses.  
“No,” agrees Callum. “We’ve gotta do every room though, ain’t we, so we could just start here.”   
“Sounds OK to me. You bring yer handcuffs home?”  
“Nah, but I can restrain ya in other ways,” says Callum, grabbing both Ben’s wrists in one of his large hands and forcing them above his head on the arm of the couch. He pulls Ben’s t-shirt up and his jeans down with the other hand.   
“Don’t move!” he commands as he stands up. Ben does as he’s told and watches as Callum crosses to close the windows that are still wide open from earlier. He returns to the couch and sets about freeing himself from his own trousers, and then gestures at himself. “You think you could get this hard for me?”  
Ben writhes around on the couch, arms still above his head, and nods, not trusting himself to speak. Callum straddles him and he opens his mouth eagerly.  
He’s just getting into a rhythm when Callum says, “We made the right choice with that rug, ya know. I’m glad we didn’t go for the other one. The colours really suit this room.”  
Ben instantly lets Callum fall from his mouth. “Oh my god! One night of livin’ together and we’ve achieved lesbian bed death!”  
“Sorry, sorry!” exclaims Callum. “I’m just excited about us movin’ in together.”  
“And there’s me thinkin’ you was excited about what my incredibly talented mouth was doin’ to ya,” says Ben. “I ‘ad no idea soft furnishin’s turned you on so much.”  
“Sorry,” says Callum again. He stands up and reaches out. “C’mon, let me lead ya to the bedroom. I can roger ya properly in there.”  
“So romantic,” sighs Ben, as he grabs Callum’s hand and let’s himself be pulled up from the couch. 

The rest of the week is spent putting together flat-pack bedroom furniture - Ben reading out the intructions and supervising Callum’s work - shopping for provisions to fill the kitchen cupboards, always a priority of Callum’s; and experiencing some kind of intense honeymoon period. The move to a new flat seems to have reinvigorated their sex life, not that it was exactly moribund before, but Ben finds he can’t keep his hands off Callum. The night before they’re both due to go back to work, Callum stops in the middle of giving him a blow job up against the bathroom door and says, “I don’t wanna jinx anything, but you happy?”  
“I’m very happy,” says Ben, concentrating hard on not falling over from where his legs have gone weak. “You?”  
“Very,” says Callum, before he resumes what he was doing.

TWO  
Ben IS happy, is the thing. Occasionally, he still wakes up in a panic in the early hours of the morning, wondering why the hell he’s let someone get so close to him when the logical, inevitable outcome is always that the two of them will fall apart. He’ll hurt Callum - or end up getting hurt – and Callum will see the real Ben underneath the surface. The cold, emotionally incompetent husk underneath the veneer. Thing is though, Ben reckons Callum sees him more clearly than any other human being ever has, and he seems to see a different version of Ben to the one Ben holds in his head. On those mornings when Ben’s awake even before the market’s creaking back into life in the Square, he’ll lie and watch Callum sleeping, and wonder how it is that the man sees so much good in him.  
They settle into a routine once they get back to work after the move. They both turn into home bodies, and the fact that they now have a tiny courtyard garden at the back of their flat means that they can spend the evenings soaking up the last of the sun’s rays and chatting idly about their days, sipping from ice cold beers before bed. A visit to the Albert these days is a rare occurrence indeed.   
Over the last few months, Ben’s felt himself unfurling, blossoming. He’d held so much hurt for so long after Paul that he’d closed himself off from all human contact as much as he could, holding himself carefully so that he wouldn’t get any more damaged, but Callum’s gradually chipped away at his protective coating, piece by piece, and he surprises himself every now and again with the depth of the emotions he’s started feeling again.   
Always, however, in the back of his mind, is the thought that it’s too good to last.  
One evening, they’re sitting out in the courtyard after work on the plastic recliner chairs they’d bought soon after they moved in. Ben’s recounting the tale of an awkward punter he’d had in at the car lot earlier that day. “… and then he wanted us to throw in a full tank of petrol an’ all! I very nearly told ‘im where to go, but I think he’s gonna bring his wife in next week to look for a little run-around. We’ve got a nice little Ford Fiesta that would be perfect for her. Bin tryin’ to get rid of it for weeks, an’ all.”  
He suddenly notices that Callum’s staring at the ground and hasn’t responded to him for the last few minutes.  
“I know that weren’t the most interestin’ story in the world,” he says, wiping sweat from his brow, “but you weren’t even listenin’, were ya babe?”  
Callum looks round at him with a start, and smiles a thin smile a second too late. “Sorry, somethin’ about cars, yeah?”  
“Wow!” exclaims Ben. “Is that all ya hear any time I’m talkin’? Just ‘somethin’ about cars’? Blimey, way to point out that I need to get out more.”  
He chuckles, expecting Callum to share in the joke, but the older man merely frowns a little, still not fully in the moment, and then gets up. “Goin’ to get another beer. You want one?”  
Ben shakes his head and watches him go back into the flat, feeling a tiny prickle of concern. He tells himself he’s being stupid, that Callum’s probably just had a bad day, and shrugs it off. When they go to bed that night, Callum pulls him close and he falls asleep wrapped in his arms, but the next morning at breakfast, Callum’s preoccupied again, and a couple of times Ben catches him staring at him with a faint frown on his face.  
“You OK, babe?” he asks.  
Again, Callum comes to with a start. “Yeah, course,” he says, his face clearing. “Gotta get goin’.” He stands and carries his breakfast things over to the kitchen sink, and then bends down to kiss Ben on the cheek. “See ya later, yeah?”  
“Yeah, and then you can tell me what’s botherin’ ya,” says Ben.  
Callum colours, and busies himself with sorting out his rucksack. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”  
“Nothin’ to do with work?”  
“Nothin’ to do with work, no. I’m fine.”  
Ben watches him head out the door, increasingly feeling that he isn’t being stupid. There really is something wrong. Something GOING wrong between them, maybe.  
It was never going to last. He did tell himself, didn’t he?  
He’s preoccupied at work, and the fact that it’s a quiet day with very few punters means he’s got more than enough time to dream up all sorts of scenarios. Callum’s regretting moving in with him. He’s having an affair with some tall, dark handsome bloke he’s met at work who knows how to do proper human emotions. He’s ill. He’s realised he’d been mistaken all this time when he thought Ben was a good person.  
Ben doesn’t know what to do. He’s always told himself not to get involved with people because they’ll only end up hurting him, and the universe is sending him that message again loud and clear, like it seems to with unerring regularity. He’s an idiot to think he could move in with someone and try to live a normal, happy life. It doesn’t work for him.  
He works himself up into such a state that he dreads going home that evening. Instead, he takes a detour to the Albert. Specifically, to a seat at the bar of the Albert, where he commences to work his way through their menu of cocktails.  
At ten to eight, he receives a text from Callum. U still stuck at work? U shoulda called x   
He sends one back. Not my keeper, and orders a Singapore Sling.  
“You sure you need another one, buddy?” asks the bartender.  
Ben glares at him. “And you ain’t me mum. Get me another Slingapore Shing.”  
The bartender huffs a laugh. “If you can’t pronounce it, buddy, you probably shouldn’t be drinking it.”  
“Not yer buddy,” says Ben. “You gonna serve me or not?”  
“Not,” says the guy. “Just make your way home, there’s a good bloke.”  
Mention of home reminds Ben of Callum. He checks his phone, peering with difficulty to see if he’s received another text. There’s just a missed call, but no message.  
He wends his way out of the club, along the hot dusty street and round the corner to their flat, and stumbles as he climbs the steps to the front door. His keys seem to have melted in the heat. It takes him ages to get the right one into the lock, and he almost gives up and sits down on the top step, waiting for Callum to come out and rescue him. He won’t though, will he? He’s moved on already. He’s fallen out of love with Ben. It’s as plain as the nose on Ben’s face.  
When Ben finally stumbles in through the door of the flat, Callum’s watching telly. He looks up as Ben enters the room, and his face falls.  
“Why you in such a state?” he asks. “And what was that text all about?”  
“I don’t know Callum,” says Ben, throwing himself down into the armchair. “Why don’tcha tell me?”  
Callum looks mystified, and then stands up and wanders off into the kitchen.  
“Don’t walk away from me!” exclaims Ben, following him in. “What you doin’?”  
“Makin’ you a coffee,” says Callum, flicking the switch on the kettle. “Tryin’ to sober you up.”  
Immediately, Ben’s contrite. Callum is such a caring person. He’s always got Ben’s best interests at heart.   
As Callum crosses to the cupboard to take out a mug, Ben throws his arms around him.  
“I would very much like to have sex with you,” he says. “In the bed. Very much would I like that. Very much. You ‘n’ me.”  
Callum shrugs him off with a grimace. “Yer pissed, Ben. I doubt you could even get it up.”  
“You could help me,” insists Ben, feeling a desperate urge to remove that look of disgust from Callum’s face, following him back across the kitchen and clasping his arms around his waist from behind as Callum pours water from the kettle into the mug.   
“Please, Ben,” says Callum, prising his hands apart and sliding away from him. “Just… just drink yer coffee. We’ll talk about this when yer sober.”  
“You don’t want me anymore? Is that it?” asks Ben.   
Callum shakes his head with a look of disgust still on his face, and heads back into the living room to watch TV.  
His refusal to answer ignites anger in Ben. He goes and stands in front of the television with his arms crossed. “Don’t walk away from me when I ask you a question!”  
Callum stands up and towers over him. “Where d’ya get off, eh Ben? Comin’ in here and shoutin’ at me like this. I got no idea what’s goin’ on with you at the moment, but you don’t get to treat me like this! You don’t get to take out yer shitty day on me, alright?”  
“It’s your fault I’ve had a shitty day!” exclaims Ben.   
“Oh yeah? How d’ya work that out then?”  
Callum pauses for a response, but in the time it takes Ben to gather his thoughts, he loses patience. “I tell ya what, I don’t care! Talk to me when yer prepared to be civil.” He disappears into the bedroom and comes back a couple of minutes later with a pillow and a sheet, which he throws down onto the couch. “You can sleep out here tonight – and don’tcha dare try and come in the bed with me, OK?”  
He disappears back into the bedroom and the door slams behind him. Ben hears him switching the telly on in there. 

Ben’s so drunk he sleeps all through the night. In fact, ironically, he’d say it’s the best night’s sleep he’s had in ages. When he’s woken up the next morning by Callum banging and crashing around in the kitchen though, his head is absolutely throbbing. He peers over the top of his bedsheet as Callum brings a bowl of cereal into the living room and sits across from him in the armchair to eat it.  
“Yer awake then,” he mutters through a mouthful of muesli.  
“Yeah,” grunts Ben.  
Callum continues to eat his breakfast, his expression hard and cold. Ben sees that he’s going to have to be the one to break the ice. He sits up gingerly, and covers his eyes with his hand. “Can we talk?”  
“Not right now,” says Callum. “I’ve got a job to go to. An’ so ‘ave you.”  
“Don’t think I’m gonna go in today,” says Ben. “Think I might see if Jay can cover.”  
“You’ve got responsibilities, Ben,” says Callum. “Don’t end up like yer - ”. He snaps his mouth shut before he can finish his sentence, and Ben’s left to wonder what he intended to say. He turns over with his face to the back of the couch and goes back to sleep.  
He’s woken a couple of hours later by his phone ringing. He ignores it, and a few seconds later a text pings in.  
It’s from Jay. Where you boss? Thought I was picking up me wages today?  
Ben curses. He’s going to have to go in. He texts back telling Jay to meet him at the lot in an hour, and heaves himself off the couch and into the shower.  
Afterwards, wandering into the bedroom clad in just a towel, he stares down at the double bed. It feels strange not to have slept in it last night. He feels excluded, shut-out of Callum’s life. He picks up Callum’s pillow and holds it to his nose. It smells faintly of Callum’s aftershave, a scent that causes an almost Pavlovian response in Ben. He can’t imagine ever not being with him. He might have to, though, if Callum’s moving on. How can everything have gone so wrong, so quickly? He sighs, and places the pillow back down, then sets about getting dressed.  
Jay’s already kicking his heels at the car lot when Ben arrives. He gives him a withering stare. “Why ain’t you opened up today?”  
“Not well,” says Ben from behind his sunglasses. “An’ can ya keep the noise down a bit, mate?”  
“Ah,” says Jay, in a voice that indicates everything’s becoming clearer. “That kind of ‘not well’, is it?”  
Ben ignores him and lets them both into the office, then crosses to the safe behind the desk. £300 weren’t it?” he asks.  
“Yeah.” Jay stares at him closely. “Somethin’ up, boss?”  
“Nah,” says Ben, counting out the money onto the desk. Then he locks the safe and sinks down into his chair. “Actually, yeah.” He buries his head in his hands. “I think he’s havin’ an affair.”   
Jay snorts in amusement, but then dials down the grin on his face when he sees that Ben’s serious. “Callum? Course he ain’t! He worships the ground ya walk on, Ben.”  
Ben shakes his head sadly. “He’s bin off with me this last couple o’ days, and last night he wouldn’t even let me sleep in the same bed as him. Made me sleep on the couch.” He raises his head and gives Jay a plaintive look. “We argued, Jay. Big time.”  
Jay looks at a loss. “An’ you drank yerself to sleep? Hence the sore head?”  
Ben grimaces, and Jay puts two and two together. “No, wait. You were drunk before you argued, yeah?”  
“Mighta bin.”  
“Well then, that’s probably why he sent ya to the couch, ain’t it?” Jay sits down on the customer chair in front of the desk and leans forward. “You sure you ain’t got the wrong end o’ the stick, mate? I mean, Callum’s the last bloke that would ever cheat. You’d do it before he ever would.”  
“Yeah, thanks!” grumbles Ben, wondering how this bloke has got to know him so well in just the short time they’ve been working together.  
“Listen,” continues Jay. “Go home, make him a nice meal for when he gets home from work - ”  
“I ain’t a bleedin’ housewife, Jay!” protests Ben.  
“Make him a nice meal,” insists Jay, “and then talk it through. Ask him what’s goin’ on.”  
“Yeah, but he might tell me, mightn’t he?” says Ben. He rubs his face in his hands. “And I ain’t sure I wanna know.”  
“Trust me, mate,” says Jay. “It’s always better to know. Better than not knowin’, ain’t it? Or makin’ stuff up.” 

He can’t really cook, is the thing. His repertoire of meals is miniscule, especially compared to Callum, who seems to be a bit of a whiz in the kitchen. The only thing Ben can make with any degree of success is pasta, so on the way back from the car lot he stops off at Tesco and buys fresh pasta and sauce, and a nice chocolate cake for afters. He picks up some garlic bread and then thinks better of it. If the evening goes the way he wants it to go, garlic might not be the best idea. He tries to subdue all the thoughts about why it might not go the way he wants it to, and heads over to the wine aisle. He’s picking up and putting down bottles of red, clueless as to which might be better, when he spots his dad heading towards the spirits. His heart lurches. It’s the first time he’s seen him in three years. He’s struck by how much he seems to have aged. He seems frail. Looking at him from afar, when Phil’s not aware of an audience that he needs to project a persona towards, Ben can’t imagine why he’s ever found him intimidating. Still doesn’t mean he wants a confrontation, though. He puts the bottle of red that happens to be in his hand in his basket and heads quickly to the checkout.  
By the time Callum arrives home, Ben’s got the food on the go. He’s chopped up onions, mushrooms and chicken, fried it all off and thrown the pasta sauce over it. The pasta’s ready to be chucked in the pan that Ben’s got simmering as soon as he hears Callum’s key in the door, and the wine is uncorked and waiting alongside two glasses on the coffee table.  
He rubs his hands nervously as Callum comes into the kitchen. He can see that Callum’s looking as nervous as he feels. He approaches cautiously to peer into the pans.   
“Looks nice. What’s the occasion?”  
“Uh, just wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya,” says Ben.   
They stand a couple of feet apart from each other. They never normally stand so far apart.  
“Soooo…” begins Callum. “This is like an apology, right?”  
Ben shrugs. “I guess so.”  
“You guess so?” repeats Callum, his voice tight.  
“Yeah! Yeah, it is. I’m sorry for gettin’ drunk last night,” says Ben. “But there’s somethin’ goin’ on with ya, and yer shuttin’ me out. So I think that deserves an apology too. And I wanna know what yer hidin’ from me.”  
Callum sighs, staring at a point just in front of Ben’s feet, and Ben’s heart clenches. He steels himself for whatever Callum’s about to say next.  
Instead, Callum goes back out to the living room and brings the wine and glasses back in with him.   
“Let’s get the food served up and then I’ll tell ya,” he says, pouring the wine.  
“So there is somethin’?”  
He gives Ben a hard stare. “Get that food on the plates. I don’t want it goin’ to waste.” He sees the anxiety in Ben’s eyes and puts down the wine bottle, then steps forward to put his arms around him. “Me ‘n’ you, we’re OK, Ben. It ain’t about us, alright? Well, I hope it ain’t, anyway.”  
Ben had begun to relax, but at Callum’s last sentence his brain starts whirring again, playing out all sorts of scenarios. He pulls away from Callum’s embrace, all but throws the food on the plates and takes it out to the living room.  
Callum takes a sip of his wine and watches Ben’s actions with wide eyes. “Nicely presented!”  
“Just bring that wine ‘ere and tell me what’s goin’ on, for god’s sake,” orders Ben.  
“OK,” says Callum, following him to the couch. “The reason I didn’t tell ya what was on me mind was that I didn’t want him to mess up what we’ve got.”  
“What? Who?” asks Ben.   
“You’ve done so well gettin’ him out of yer life, and I know you. You’ll decide you need to be the one to save him.”  
“Callum, will you please tell me who the hell yer talkin’ about?”  
Callum swallows a mouthful of food and drags out the moment as far as he can, until Ben elbows him impatiently.   
“OK,” says Callum with a reluctant sigh. “Yer dad. I arrested him a few days ago. Drunk and disorderly in a public place. He’s in a bad way, Ben.”  
Ben is silent. He chews another mouthful of food thoroughly and then digs through the pasta on his plate with his fork. Callum watches him for a few seconds, but turns back to his food when Ben doesn’t comment. “What ya thinkin’?”  
“Dunno,” says Ben. “I saw him in Tesco earlier. Not to speak to, mind. I thought he looked a bit frail.”  
“Yeah, well, if you ask me, he’s probably bin knockin’ it back for years. Was he a drinker when you was still in touch?”  
“Nah, not so’s you’d notice. He recognise ya?”  
The look on Callum’s face is enough to provide confirmation.   
“What did he say? Did he ask about me?”  
“Ben…”  
“I ain’t gonna get involved again, just tell me what he said.”  
“D’you want the exact words, or the gist?”  
“Exact words.”  
“You sure?”  
“Exact words, Callum.”  
Callum trains his eyes on the ceiling. “He said…” he pauses and turns back to Ben. “You sure?”  
Just the look on Ben’s face is enough to prompt him, evidently, because he rolls his eyes in resignation and takes a deep breath. “He said, ‘you still stickin’ it in that waste of space who weren’t good enough to be my son?’”  
Ben’s eyes cloud over for a second, but he stirs and asks, “And what did you say?”  
“I said, ‘you’ve got vomit on yer shoes, sir.’”  
There’s a pause, and then Ben snorts out a laugh. “You’ve got vomit on yer shoes? Excellent!” He reaches over and gives Callum’s knee a shake. “See, this is why I like ya. Yer hilarious.”  
Callum inclines his head, looking chuffed. “I try me best.”  
They eat in a companionable silence. As Callum finishes, he drops his fork on his plate and places it on the coffee table. “That was lovely.”  
He darts sideways glances at Ben, who pretends not to notice. Eventually, Callum says, “So, what was last night all about?”  
Ben had been hoping he wouldn’t ask. He shrugs. “Don’t matter.”   
Callum turns to face him. “It does matter, Ben. You was havin’ a go at me, for no good reason.”  
Ben places his plate to one side and sits forward, hiding his face in his hands. “I was an idiot, OK?”  
“Well yeah, I think we established that last night,” says Callum. “But I wanna know why.” He reaches out and softly strokes his fingers through Ben’s hair. “What was goin’ on for ya last night? You ain’t never gone out and got pissed on yer own like that before.”  
“I thought you was gonna leave me,” Ben mutters into his hands.  
“What?”  
Ben sits up again and stares at a point across the room just behind Callum’s left ear. “I though you was plannin’ to leave me. You’d bin off for a while. I thought ya’d got sick of me.”  
“What?” repeats Callum, this time with a disbelieving chuckle in his voice. “Why on earth wouldya think that?”  
“Cos I asked you what was wrong, Callum, and you denied that there was anythin’,” says Ben.  
Callum’s eyes widen as if he’s putting two and two together. He throws an arm round Ben and pulls him into his side. “I was worried about tellin’ ya about yer dad, Ben. I ain’t plannin’ to leave ya. Why would I, when we’ve just moved in together?”  
Ben shrugs underneath his arm, feeling stupid. “Dunno.”  
“I can’t say I ain’t never gonna leave ya,” says Callum.  
“Oh, well that’s reassuring!” deadpans Ben.  
“I can’t say it,” repeats Callum, “but if we did get to that point, I’d hope we’d have talked it through first. I ain’t never gonna just dump ya, Ben, alright? I hope you’d do the same for me.”  
“Yeah,” says Ben in a quiet voice. He’s not sure he could be so honourable if it ever came to that point, but he dismisses those thoughts from his head. They’re not splitting up. They’re OK. It’s not an issue. “So we’re solid, yeah?”   
Callum plants a kiss on the top of his head. “Course we are. An’ I’m sorry I didn’t realise I’d freaked you out, OK?” He nuzzles Ben’s head for a few seconds, and then adds, “You are an idiot though, ain’t ya?”  
“I’m not sure that’s the sort of thing a supportive boyfriend should be sayin’,” reprimands Ben, even if a large part of him agrees with Callum and is feeling pretty stupid at that moment.  
Callum snorts. “You OK about yer dad though, yeah?”  
“Yeah, course. He ain’t no concern of mine anymore, is he?”

And yet, later that night when they’re in bed and Ben’s being pinned down and enveloped by Callum’s body, he can’t help his mind straying to thoughts of Phil Mitchell. 

THREE  
One Sunday morning a couple of weeks later, Ben’s woken by Callum moving in close and pressing kisses to his face.  
“Bleurgh!” he mumbles, wiping at his wet cheek and trying to push him away. “What ya doin’?”  
“I love ya,” whispers Callum. “This is yer daily anti-idiot medicine.”  
He’s been making a habit of this kind of behaviour ever since Ben’s meltdown. “What?” grunts Ben.  
“If I tell ya how much I love ya, it might be the medicine you need to stop ya goin’ off and gettin’ blind drunk any time you feel a bit neglected.”  
Ben stirs and turns onto his side to face Callum. “You make me sound like a right needy git. I ain’t, alright? Ya don’t need to go overboard.”  
Callum’s expression says he begs to differ.   
“I still don’t know what yer doin’ here, anyway,” says Ben. “I only wanted a one-night stand, and then ya started cookin’ me food, and callin’ round uninvited, and gettin’ inside me head and makin’ me sign joint tenancy agreements. Yer a psychopath!”  
“I must be,” says Callum with a wide grin on his face. “I do love ya though.”  
Ben rolls his eyes. “I know. You did say.”  
“Say it back then,” says Callum. “You hardly ever say it.”  
“I say it in me actions,” says Ben, grimacing.   
Callum catches the expression on his face and chuckles. “You are so emotionally constipated, Ben Mitchell.”  
“Listen, if yer just gonna criticise me, I’m goin’ back to sleep,” says Ben, turning over with his back to Callum, but as he puts his head under the covers, he mutters, “I love you an’ all.”  
Callum wriggles around behind him. “What? Did ya say somethin’? Didn’t quite hear ya.”  
“You heard,” says Ben.  
“Nope, didn’t hear.” Callum pulls the covers away from Ben’s head and tries to get him to turn back over. Ben resists as hard as he can, and they end up wrestling around, tangling the covers and pushing one of the pillows onto the floor, both giggling uncontrollably. Callum overpowers him, pinning him on his back with his arms over his head where the pillow would have been. “Tell me! Tell me what ya said.”  
“Alright! I give in!” exclaims Ben, breathing hard. “I give in. I love ya, even though yer a pain in the arse most of the time.”  
“Nope, not good enough.” Callum lowers his body weight onto Ben, causing all the air to escape his lungs in an “oof!”. “Tell it to me straight. Nothin’ but them three little words.”  
“Now who’s bein’ needy?” asks Ben, smiling up at him fondly. He can feel that Callum’s hard against his thigh. “I love ya,” he says. “An’ I’m just about to show ya how much.” He pushes Callum off himself and slides under the bedclothes.

There is no one that ignites the intensity of feeling in Ben that he experiences with Callum. No one else with whom he feels adrift on a sea of emotions over which he has no control. No one apart, that is, from Phil, and the feelings he induces in Ben are at the very opposite extreme to those engendered by Callum. Sometimes, Ben feels like the two of them speak to the two sides of him. Callum’s the person he wants to be. Upbeat and positive despite the hard life he’s had. Phil is the dark side of him. The cold, uncaring bloke who drives everyone away from him with cruel words and unfeeling actions. Of the two, Ben knows which he has the most potential to be. He has to guard against hurting Callum every hour of every day, and he knows it’s inevitable that it’ll happen one day, but almost every morning that he wakes up, he tells himself, not today. Today I’m gonna get through OK.  
About a week later, he’s wandering through the Square on his way back from picking up some bits and pieces at the Minute Mart. It’s a Monday; he’s taken the day off and left Jay in charge, and the sun’s still beating down on the inhabitants of Walford, sweat-hot even for eleven in the morning. He’d passed by Phil’s car lot on his way to the shop and been struck by how run-down it looked. The door to the portacabin needed a paint job, and the cars on the lot were dirty, the signs advertising their prices slung haphazardly on the dashboards behind dusty windscreens. He’d never have stood for that when he ran it. He prided himself on good presentation, and he works to the same standards at his own lot now. At least he doesn’t seem to have much competition, if this is the best Phil – or whoever he’s put in charge – can do.  
As he meanders back past the car lot again, sipping from a cold can with a carrier bag of food twisted round a wrist, he can hear shouting coming from inside the portacabin. Some poor idiot getting the same treatment he’d got from his dad, maybe. He stops on the other side of the street and listens to the argument that’s spilling out through the open door.  
“I ain’t doin’ another day til you pay me what you owe!” someone is shouting.  
Ben hears Phil’s voice in answer. “You don’t sell no cars, you ain’t owed anythin’, mate.” The words are thick and slow, like he’s struggling to pronounce them.  
As Ben takes another sip from his can, a skinny, good-looking bloke emerges from the portacabin, closely followed by Phil.  
“You know what? You can stick yer job where the sun don’t shine!” yells the bloke. “And I’ll be back for me wages, with some blokes you don’t wanna get on the wrong side of, believe me, mate.”  
“You think I’m scared?” shouts Phil. “You don’t scare me. Nobody scares me!” As he chases after the bloke he trips on the kerb and almost goes flying, and there’s a second when Ben’s heart goes out to him. He looks like a man who’s losing it. Not at all the tyrant Ben remembers.   
The blokes strides off across the Square and Phil notices Ben standing across from him. He stares hard at him. “What you gawpin’ at?”  
His words are slurred, and as he points at Ben, his hand shakes. Ben could just walk on by. He could. It would probably be the best course of action, but Phil’s his family. Despite everything, he’s flesh and blood, and Ben can’t bear to see him in such a state.  
He crosses the street and follows Phil into the portacabin, hovering in the doorway as Phil throws himself down into the chair behind the desk and rubs a hand over his face.  
“You alright, dad?” asks Ben tentatively.  
It’s as if Phil’s already forgotten he’s there. He lowers his hand and peers across to the door, all his actions seeming slow and requiring lots of concentration.  
“Wondered when you’d turn up,” he says. “I ain’t givin’ you yer job back.”  
Ben swallows back a laugh. “I don’t want me job back, dad. I’ve got me own car lot now, down the other end of Victoria Road. Doin’ OK, as it ‘appens.” He feels proud, pleased he’s made something of himself, and hopes Phil might feel the same.  
Phil scrutinises him, squinting slightly as he tries to focus on him. Ben resists the urge to squirm like a little kid in front of him as he waits for his verdict. “Oh well, bully for you,” says Phil, blinking slowly as he focusses on pronouncing the words.  
“Who was that bloke?” asks Ben, swallowing down the disappointment and gesturing behind himself with the hand holding his can.  
Phil takes a few seconds to think. “Who? Kush? Just some no-mark wantin’ money off me. Everyone wants somethin’. What you ‘ere for?”  
Ben ventures in further, and sits on the chair in front of the desk, resolutely not looking at the row of customer seats where he’d received his beating three years ago from Danny Hardcastle. He wonders if they’re the same chairs. He wonders if Phil had to scrub the blood of his son off them before they could be used again. “I ain’t here for anythin’,” he says, placing his carrier bag on the floor next to his feet. “Was just passin’ and saw you havin’ a spot of bother.”  
“I saw that poncy ‘friend’ of yours the other week,” says Phil after a long silence.  
“Yeah, he mentioned it.”  
“Still a grass, then?”  
“I was never a grass, dad,” says Ben, keeping his voice steady and quiet, trying not to provoke him. “But as it happens,” he continues, “I’m happy. Settled. Callum ‘n’ me ‘ave just moved in together. It’s goin’ well.”  
He’s an idiot for thinking Phil might be happy for him. He doesn’t know why he even bothered. A sneer spreads across Phil’s face.   
“’Ave you ‘eard yerself?” asks Phil. “Sound like a proper little nancy.”  
“Right, OK,” says Ben, standing up again. “I’ve gotta get on. See ya dad.”  
“Wait!” commands Phil. Ben half-turns back to him. “You got a car lot, ya say?”  
“Yeah,” says Ben, pathetically grateful for Phil’s interest, even if it is delayed. “Corner of Victoria Road and Truman Street. S’ only small but it gets good passin’ trade.”  
Phil unlocks the right-hand drawer of the desk and pulls out a bottle of vodka and a couple of glasses. He inclines the bottle towards Ben, but Ben shakes his head and points to the half-full can he’s still holding. Phil rolls his eyes as he pours out a large slug of vodka and drinks it straight down, grimacing at the taste as he slams the empty glass back down on the desk.  
“Dad, ain’t it a bit early for that?” asks Ben, stunned.  
Phil shrugs. “Pubs is open. An’ the prices they charge over at the Vic, I’m better off havin’ a snifter ‘ere.”  
The volume he’s just knocked back is significantly more than a ‘snifter’. Ben stares at him in consternation, trying not to let it show on his face.  
“Sooo, I ain’t got anyone to man this place for now,” says Phil eventually. “Least til I can find someone else, now I’ve sent that waste of space packin’.” He stares at a point on the desk, waiting for a reply from Ben.  
Ben doesn’t remember Phil sending the bloke – Kush – packing. That’s not what happened at all. Still, he’s not about to set Phil straight. It’s enough that he’s talking to him civilly.   
He doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he’s on the right side of the line at the moment. The line between happiness and torment; between a good life and a descent into misery. This is his dad, though. He can’t just walk out of this portacabin and leave him on the other side of that line, can he? It’s not what family does.   
He thinks of Callum, reluctant to tell him he’d arrested this man in front of him in case he messes up what the two of them have together. He thinks about walking away from Phil. Walking back to Callum and trying every day not to mess up what they have, putting off the day when Callum realises he just wasn’t worth the bother. But could he live with himself if he walked away from his dad without trying to help him? Can having Callum in his life balance out the grief from having Phil in his life?  
“You was good with this place,” says Phil, toying with his empty glass. “You made a decent profit, when you wasn’t messin’ around with the Old Bill.”  
Still Ben is silent.   
“There was a time I was proud of ya for what you’d done with this place,” adds Phil.  
Ben’s in a good place now. He and Callum are solid. A couple of days’ cover for his dad isn’t going to hurt, is it?  
“Listen, I can help out for a few days,” says Ben. “I’ve got someone can cover my business while I work here. If ya want.”  
Phil looks up at him as if the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “That might be a good idea,” he says slowly. “That’d help me out no end. Just til I can find a new manager. How you fixed for today?”  
Ben had been planning to make a start on painting the bedroom back at the flat, and then maybe cook something nice for Callum’s tea. “Well - ” he begins.  
“Perfect!” says Phil, standing up and coming round the desk to clap Ben on the shoulder. “Keys is on the shelf there. You know the filing system. Cheers, Ben.”  
He grabs the vodka from the desk and hugs it to his chest as he strides out of the door, leaving Ben in the middle of the portacabin staring round, bemused, at the old familiar place. 

By the time he gets home, he’s exhausted. He’d spent the day cleaning every single car on the lot from top to bottom, inside and out. After that, he’d made a start on the office, which looked and smelt like it had endured months of neglect. He’d had a couple of customers, one sounding pretty interested in a Fiat Punto, but hadn’t made any sales. He’ll have to try harder tomorrow, or face the wrath and sarcasm of Phil.  
He hadn’t heard from his dad since. He’d locked up and brought the keys home with him, but he’ll have to pop round the arches tomorrow, formally sort out a timescale for this arrangement of theirs. He can’t stay there forever; he’s got his own business to take care of, although when he’d phoned to offer Jay more hours, the bloke had all but bitten his hand off.   
He’d managed to get home half an hour before Callum and immediately set to work throwing together some food. He’s just mashing some potatoes when he hears Callum’s key in the door.  
“Alright gorgeous?” says Callum, crossing to kiss his cheek with a hand on his bum. He peers into the saucepans and grins. “You’ll make someone a lovely housewife one of these days.”  
“Shut up,” says Ben, drawing his face down for a more thorough kiss. Only now that Callum’s in front of him does it occur to him that he’s got something to hide.   
“Mm,” says Callum as they surface from the kiss. “You’ll have to have days off more often if it makes ya this randy.” He squeezes Ben’s bum one more time and heads to the bedroom to drop off his rucksack and change his clothes. He returns a couple of seconds later with a frown on his face.  
“I thought you was makin’ a start on paintin’ the bedroom today?”  
“Uh, yeah,” says Ben. “About that…” He casts around in his mind for an excuse as he dishes up the potato. “I uh, I decided it was too hot to do it, and I thought maybe we could do it together the next time you’ve got a weekend off. Feels like summat we should do together.”  
“OK,” says Callum. “Makes sense. I’m just gonna go and change outta these clothes.”  
Ben turns to the sink to run hot water into the empty saucepan, and breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not a big lie. He’s not trying to conceal anything that would hurt Callum, like an affair or a crime. He’s just trying to maintain their loved-up little bubble, maintain a quiet life.   
It doesn’t stop him feeling guilty though.

FOUR  
Ben sits back on the couch after he’s finished his toast and watches Callum eat his cereal. Despite the fact that he’s shovelling muesli into his gob as fast as it will go, he’s talking nineteen to the dozen as usual in between, and sometimes during, mouthfuls.   
“I reckon we should book ourselves a holiday,” he says.   
Ben had been preoccupied with staring at the length of Callum’s eyelashes. “Huh?”  
“A holiday,” repeats Callum. “Somewhere sunny.”  
Ben smirks at him. “Callum, babe, it’s quarter to seven in the mornin’ and it’s already eighty degrees. Why would we wanna go somewhere else sunny?”  
“Bit of an exaggeration,” points out Callum. “I don’t mean now, in any case. Later in the year. When summer’s over an’ it all gets a bit depressin’.”  
“You ain’t never bin depressed in yer life,” says Ben. “Yer a proper little ray of sunshine, you are. I don’t need to go anywhere sunny as long as I’m with you.”  
He’s half joking, and Callum knows it. Nevertheless, he bats those long lashes at Ben. “You say the most romantic things when you catch yerself off guard.”  
Ben throws him a sarcastic smile. “Let’s talk about it another time. The holiday. We’ll sit down and plan it.”  
Callum seems satisfied enough at that and carries on eating his breakfast. Ben carries on watching him. Throughout the night, when he’d done his usual trick of waking up periodically and panicking that this wasn’t going to last, his head had been full of the thought that he was actually doing something to bring that day closer. The day when Callum decided he’d be better off elsewhere with someone else. Ben’s done something that’s increased the likelihood of that happening. He wonders if he should tell Callum about the encounter with Phil; about how he feels like he’s become embroiled in his dad’s life again without even wanting to. No, he’s better off not saying anything. He’ll help Phil out for a couple of days and then they’ll go their separate ways again. Callum’ll be none the wiser and everything’ll be back to normal.  
He can’t shake the feeling that he’s likely to push Callum away as a consequence of his actions, though. The more you fear losing something, the more precious it becomes to you, and sitting here now, watching Callum, Ben’s heart is overwhelmed with love for him.  
“I love you, ya know,” he says before he can censor himself.   
He immediately feels embarrassed and clears his throat, ready to joke it away, but the wide grin he gets from Callum in return is worth the stomach-crawling feeling he experiences.   
“You don’t normally say that,” says Callum. “Leastways not unless I’ve got ya pinned down an’ I’m wavin’ the nipple clamps around.”  
Ben snorts. “We don’t even have any nipple clamps, you idiot.”  
“You wanna get some?” asks Callum.  
“Do you?”  
“Nah, not really. Bit weird, ain’t it?”  
“Yeah, I’m not really into pain. Not exactly a turn-on, is it? Otherwise I’d get a stiffy every time me dad gave me a good hidin’.”   
Ben immediately regrets his words. Especially as Callum peers closely at him.   
“You seen him lately?” asks Callum.  
Ben busies himself with gathering up the breakfast things and taking them through to the kitchen. “Nah,” he calls back. “Not at all.”  
“D’ya miss him?” asks Callum, coming up behind him where he’s standing at the kitchen sink and sliding his arms around his waist.  
“Not really,” says Ben, glad he’s got his back to Callum. “Ain’t you gonna be late for work?”  
“I’ve got a few minutes yet,” says Callum. “Long enough for ya to make good on that thing you said just now.”  
“What thing?” asks Ben, panicking. Then he remembers. “Oh! The thing I said about lovin’ ya?”  
“Exactly,” says Callum. “Ain’t got long enough to take ya back to bed, but I could indulge in some serious snoggin’ for a few minutes.”   
“Yer so bossy,” says Ben, turning in his arms. “I ain’t never had any say in this relationship, have I? You just appeared one day and never left.”  
“Like a stray cat,” agrees Callum.  
“Exactly!”  
“You know what makes me laugh?” asks Callum, in between planting soft kisses on his mouth. “You thought you was so in control at the beginnin’, didn’tcha?”  
Ben pulls back and gives him a hard stare. “Was I not, then?”  
“Well, what d’ya reckon?”  
Ben ponders the question, kissing Callum back as he does.   
“I set me sights on ya and then I ground ya down with the sheer force of me personality,” says Callum eventually, grinning obnoxiously at him.  
“Yeah, ‘ground down’ would be about right,” Ben deadpans, trying to ignore the fact that no one’s ever loved him like Callum professes to, and it feels pretty good and pretty scary in equal measure.

He’s still feeling loved up as he arrives at Phil’s car lot an hour later. He throws the keys on the desk and surveys the office, trying to decide what to start on first.  
He’s just settled down to cast his eye over the accounts when there’s a knock on the door and the bloke from yesterday – Kush – pokes his head around it.  
“Phil not about?” he asks.  
“Ah, it’s you,” says Ben in answer. “The bloke from yesterday.”  
“Sorry, who - ”  
“I was across the road,” says Ben. “Watched the whole shebang.”  
“Right,” says Kush, looking vaguely bewildered as he steps inside. “And now yer runnin’ the show, yeah?”  
Ben grins. “Not exactly. Standin’ in for a couple of days.”  
“OK, well word of warnin’,” says Kush, rubbing his hands together nervously, like he thinks Phil’s going to appear any second. “The bloke who owns this place is an absolute psychopath.”  
“Yeah, I know,” says Ben. “He’s me dad.”  
Immediately Kush looks mortified. “Shit! Listen, I’m sorry. I -”  
Ben waves away his apologies. “No, no. S’ alright. I’ve known him twenty-six years. I’m well aware of his psychopathic tendencies.” He smiles broadly. Kush is a very good-looking man, it has to be said. “What was it ya wanted?”  
“Well… he owes me money,” says Kush, looking embarrassed. Ben remembers him telling Phil yesterday he’d be back with some heavies to get what he was owed. He bites back a smile at the contrast with now.  
“How much?”  
Kush looks taken aback at the question. He’d evidently expected to be sent on his way without a penny. “Oh! Uh, two hundred and fifty.”  
“Right.” Ben stands up. “You can have it if the safe code is the same as it was three years ago. And if there’s any money in it of course,” he adds. He crouches behind the desk and fiddles with the dial on the safe. He’s not exactly surprised when the lock releases after he twists the dial to the combination he still remembers from all his time working here previously. “Well, whaddya know?” he says, smiling round at Kush. The guy smiles hopefully back at him.   
“This is alright, yeah?” he asks. “I mean, Phil won’t flip his lid or anything?”  
“Probably,” says Ben. “But you let me worry about that. If yer owed money, we gotta make sure ya get it, ain’t we?” He’s well-aware he’s gone into flirt mode. Kush is looking like a rabbit caught in headlights. Obviously not gay, then. Doesn’t hurt to flex the flirt-muscles every now and then though. Ben would never follow through on it, even if this Kush was receptive. He’s got Callum, and Callum is more than enough for any man.  
He roots around in the safe, digging around under the log books and the company insurance certificates, and pulls out the cash box that’s always been kept in there.   
“Right, fingers crossed,” he says, placing it on the desk.  
There’s a couple of thousand in there, so he counts out what Kush is owed and then locks it back up and places it back in the safe.  
“Cheers, mate,” says Kush, looking relieved. “Yer a life-saver.”  
Ben waves away his thanks. “S’ what you were owed, ain’t it? So, you can do me a favour now.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah, give me a potted history of this place since you’ve bin workin’ here.”  
Kush looks like he’d rather do anything but. “Well, I was only here a couple of weeks.”   
“OK, so tell me what ya know of those two weeks,” says Ben, still in strong flirt mode. He can’t help it. If he sees a good-looking bloke, it happens naturally.  
“It was like trying to run a business with one hand tied behind me back,” says Kush. “Phil won’t invest in adverts so nobody comes near here. He wouldn’t let me spend anything without his say-so, and half the time he was AWOL so I couldn’t get him to make any decisions. Tell ya the truth mate, it’s the worst job I ever ‘ad.”  
Ben follows him out of the office and they shake hands as Kush takes his leave. “Thanks for this though,” he says, waving his money in Ben’s direction. “Really appreciate yer help.”  
“No worries, mate,” says Ben. “Mind how ya go.”  
He admires Kush’s arse as he walks away from him, and then casts an eye over the cars, brushing a few specks of dust off a couple of them before turning to go back into the office.  
At that point, he notices Callum striding towards him. His heart sinks.  
“Well hello,” he says, trying to brazen it out. “I never ordered a sexy man in uniform, but seein’ as yer here, there’s an empty desk in the office an’ a lock on the door.”  
“What the hell you doin’ here, Ben?” demands Callum, clearly not in the mood for flirting.  
“Ain’t ya got a patrol to do, or somethin’?” asks Ben. “Whatever it is ya do.”  
“You lied to me,” says Callum. “You told me you hadn’t seen yer dad for ages, and now yer here workin’ for him. What’s goin’ on?”  
Ben leads the way back into the office, Callum following close behind. They stop in front of the desk and Callum towers over Ben, his anger palpable.  
“He’s in a bad way, Cal,” says Ben. “I happened to be passin’ yesterday just as his manager walked out. I got talkin’ to him and I said I’d help him out. It’s only for a couple of days though, just til he gets someone else to manage this place.”   
He steps closer to Callum and takes his shirt collar in his hands, looking to reassure him, but Callum pushes him away.  
“And who’s managin’ your place while yer here?”  
“Jay,” says Ben, feeling rejected.  
“Yer payin’ someone to run your place while you work here? I’m guessin’ yer doin’ it for free, yeah? So yer gonna be out of pocket.” The look on Callum’s face tells Ben exactly what he thinks of the arrangement.  
To be honest, Ben hadn’t discussed payment with Phil. If the worst comes to the worst, though, he can pay himself out of the money in the safe.  
“He beat you up, Ben. He made yer life a misery for years, an’ now yer here helpin’ him out? That don’t make any sense to me.”  
“He’s family, Cal,” says Ben, simply.  
Callum shakes his head and turns to leave.  
“Please,” says Ben, not sure what he’s asking. He just knows he doesn’t want Callum to leave while he’s still wearing that look of disappointment. “Cal, I’m sorry. It’ll only be for a day or two, I promise.”  
Callum turns back to him. “You don’t have to promise me anythin’, Ben. I’ll tell ya somethin’ though. If you think you’ll be rid of him again in two days, yer kiddin’ yerself.”

After Callum leaves Ben gets back to the accounts, but he feels out of sorts, discomfort niggling at his brain all through the day. He hates arguing with Callum. He hates it, and as the day wears on he begins to resent it. Callum has no right to make him feel like he’s done something wrong. He’s helping out family. What else can he do? It shouldn’t be something that causes disappointment in Callum. He should be supporting Ben’s decisions.  
He’s shocked as he runs through the accounts. Firstly, by the mess they’re in, and secondly by the fact that the car lot appears to be floundering. There have hardly been any sales all summer, and outgoings are far outstripping income. No wonder Phil wouldn’t allow Kush to spend any money, the ground rent Phil’s paying for this place is astronomical. By Ben’s reckoning, the business has got another two months max before it goes under for good.  
He heads round to the arches before going home that afternoon. The same bloke who was there three years ago is still there, working with his head under the bonnet of a Mazda. For all Ben knows, he hasn’t moved an inch in the intervening years. The only difference in the scene that greets him is that Phil is nowhere to be seen.  
“I’m lookin’ for me dad.” he tells the bloke, the memories of how he’d witnessed Ben’s humiliation the last time Ben was here causing a brusqueness to his tone.  
“Good luck with that then, mate,” says the bloke. “Ain’t seen him all day.”  
“What? He on holiday?” asks Ben.  
“Nah mate.” The bloke mimes taking a swig from a bottle. “Sleepin’ it off, most probably.”  
There’s a step behind Ben, and the bloke’s expression changes. He sticks his head back under the bonnet of the car he’s working on without another word.  
“What d’ya want?” asks Phil, stepping past Ben and heading over to the desk in the corner.  
“Just came to find out how yer getting’ on with findin’ someone for the car lot,” says Ben.  
It’s clear that Phil needs a few seconds to work out what he’s talking about. Ben’s heart sinks. “You have bin lookin’ for someone, ain’t ya?”  
“Yeah, yeah,” says Phil, waving away his concern. “ ‘S gonna take time though, ain’t it?”  
“I can’t stay there for long,” says Ben. “I’ve got me own place to run.”  
Phil stares at him. “And that’s more important than helpin’ yer old dad out, is it?”  
There’s something in his gaze that has Ben feeling like a little kid again. He shifts his weight and clears his throat. “Nah, course not dad. Equally important, though. I gotta get back to it sometime soon. I did say I could only spare ya a couple of days.”  
“You could only ‘spare’ me a couple of days,” repeats Phil with a sneer. “Who d’ya think you are, Ben, eh? If it’s such a chore, maybe you should just get lost.”  
Ben darts a glance round at the bloke working on the car. He’s very still, listening in closely to their conversation.  
“You need someone workin’ there dad,” says Ben, “if yer gonna make any money on it.” He tries to communicate by facial expression alone what he means: that the car lot is in danger of folding if Phil doesn’t get a decent manager in there soon.  
“You’d better stay there til I can find someone then, hadn’t ya?” asks Phil. “If you wanna help as much as you say ya do.” 

Ben needs to let off steam. He finds his feet taking him in the direction of the Albert, but just as he turns the corner and sees the garish sign in the window up ahead, his phone pings with an incoming message.  
It’s from Callum. Don’t go drinking tonight, come home. Not mad at U. Made U some tea xx  
Ben roll his eyes, but nevertheless changes direction and heads home. When he enters the flat Callum is putting the finishing touches to bangers and mash. He turns at the sound of Ben’s footsteps across the living room and fixes him with a level stare, clearly trying hard to keep his face expressionless.  
“You OK?”  
Ben scrubs his face in his hands. “Bin better.” He drops his hands from his face and returns Callum’s gaze. “Would ya do somethin’ for me?”  
“Anythin’,” says Callum.  
“Would ya take me to bed later and give me a good hard seein’-to?”  
“That what ya need?”  
“More than anythin’.”  
Callum nods. “That bad a day, huh?”  
“Yeah,” says Ben. “Just don’t say ya told me so.”  
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” says Callum.  
Nevertheless, much later when he’s deep inside Ben and Ben’s losing himself in the feel of his firm, hard thrusts, Callum glances down at him and in between breaths, mutters, “Why did ya lie to me?”  
“Cos I’m an idiot,” answers Ben on a deep intake of breath. “I’m an idiot and you were right. Please don’t stop what yer doin’.” 

FIVE  
When Ben wakes up after an unsettled night’s sleep, Callum is lying on his side staring at him.   
“’S a bit creepy,” mumbles Ben, his eyes burning from lack of proper sleep.  
“Huh?”  
“Bit creepy, watchin’ me sleep.”  
Callum gives him a bleary smile. “Like you ain’t never done the same. Y’alright?”  
Ben shrugs.  
You goin’ back to Phil’s car lot today?”  
“What else can I do?” asks Ben, rubbing his eyes.  
There’s a silence, in which Callum very considerately doesn’t point out that Ben could just walk away from Phil and leave him to sort out his own problems. Ben fills the silence with all the things he guesses Callum’s thinking. He knows he’s a mug, Callum doesn’t need to tell him. After a few moments, Callum runs a gentle finger down Ben’s arm and says, “Just don’t get mixed up with him again. Do these couple of days’ work and then leave him to it. Promise me? Yer better than that, Ben.”  
“He’s family though, ain’t he?” says Ben.  
“And so are you. ‘Cept that didn’t seem to bother him all those times he was knocking seven shades outta you. It’s gotta go both ways, Ben, otherwise he’s just takin’ advantage.”  
Ben flings himself onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “Please don’t have a go at me, Cal.”  
“I ain’t havin’ a go. I’m just worried yer gonna get hurt again. He’s big enough and bad enough to sort out his own problems, an’ if he can’t - ”  
“He can hardly walk in a straight line at the moment, Callum!” says Ben, frustration making his voice rise in volume, “much less sort out a failin’ business.”  
“But that don’t mean you’ve gotta do it for him, Ben! He ain’t never gonna learn if you keep turnin’ up to bail him out, is he?” Callum’s voice becomes louder in response, and immediately Ben feels like a little schoolboy being chastised.  
“Oh right, so this is my fault, is it?”  
“No, course not. Don’t get so defensive.”  
“I ain’t defensive!” exclaims Ben, truly angry now at Callum’s criticism. “Yer just on me case! I can’t sit by and watch him mess everythin’ up, Callum. Just cos you washed yer hands of your dad, it don’t mean I’m gonna do the same with mine. Maybe I’m just a better son than you ever were.”  
He slides out of bed and heads to the bathroom for a hot shower, the silence heavy behind him. He clatters around in the bathroom, knowing he was out of line and the knowledge making him even more angry. He’s doing that thing he always knew he would do: sabotaging what he’s got with Callum. It was always inevitable. He’s surprised it’s taken him this long.  
When he goes back into the bedroom afterwards, Callum is sitting on the edge of the bed staring down at the floor. He looks tired. He raises his head as Ben enters the room.  
“That was a low blow.”  
Ben goes on the attack immediately to deflect from the fact that he knows he was in the wrong. “I’m sorry, OK? But you ain’t makin’ this any easier Callum, tellin’ me what I ought to be doin’. It ain’t that straightforward.”  
Callum reaches out to take his hand. “I’m doin’ it cos I care about ya Ben. I don’t wanna see ya get hurt.”  
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of meself.”   
Ben pulls his hand away and goes to get dressed. The way he feels right now, he could do without Phil AND Callum in his life. Things used to be so much simpler, he’s sure they did.

Bad mood notwithstanding, he manages to sell the Fiat Punto by mid-morning. He practically has to give it away but beggars can’t be choosers, given the circumstances. At least it brings some money into the business, and he hopes it’ll go some way towards proving himself with Phil. He also arranges to place an ad in the local paper, pays for it using his own card and then reimburses himself from the money in the safe, making sure he makes a careful note of it in the ledger.  
The man himself comes over at lunchtime. Ben looks up hopefully. “You got a manager yet, dad?”  
It’s clearly the wrong thing to say. “Get off me case!” snaps Phil, crossing to lower himself unsteadily onto one of the customer chairs. “I told ya, it’s gonna take time.”  
“Sold the Punto,” says Ben, anxious to change the subject before Phil blows a fuse and keen, too, to report his success.  
“How much?”  
“Well, I had to let it go for seven hundred less than the asking price, but it’s a sale, at least, ain’t it?”  
Phil peers at him. “Seven hundred less? Are you stupid or somethin’? I coulda got the askin’ price for that.”  
Ben’s shoulders hunch up around his ears. “But it’s been hangin’ around for a month, dad. You wasn’t gonna shift it.”   
“You tryna rip me off?” asks Phil. “Everyone’s always tryna rip me off. I should bleedin’ well do it all meself. Won’t get ripped off that way.”  
“But you can’t, can ya dad?”   
Immediately Ben regrets saying it. Phil stares at him with a sneer on his face. “You seen somethin’ in me that makes you think yer better than me, is that it? Cos let me tell you somethin’ Ben, you ain’t fit to lick the dirt off me boots. Comin’ in here with yer pitying looks, thinkin’ yer savin’ me. Who d’ya think you are?”  
“I don’t think I’m savin’ ya, dad. Ben huffs out a half-laugh at the idea. “I ain’t got a saviour complex. I just wanna help, prove to ya that I can step up when you need me to, that’s all.”  
“You ain’t never gonna prove yerself to me,” says Phil, sitting back and crossing his arms, disdain written all over his face.   
“I won’t stop tryin’ though,” says Ben. “I won’t let ya down. You’ll see it one day.”  
“You decided shackin’ up with some poncy copper’s better than loyalty to yer old dad. You’ve got yer priorities all wrong, Ben. You ain’t no son of mine if you think that’s an acceptable way to live yer life.”  
Ben sighs. “What annoys ya most, dad? The fact that he’s a copper, or the fact that he’s a bloke?”  
He regrets the words immediately. Phil manoeuvres himself back to a standing position and comes round behind the desk. Ben flinches, expecting the worst, but all Phil says is, “Get outta me way.”  
Ben stands up but holds his ground, although his legs are shaking. “Listen, dad. Let me find a manager for this place. I can take all the worry off yer shoulders, and you can concentrate on the arches. What d’ya say?”  
Phil looks as if he’s going to argue the toss, but then a resigned look comes over his face. “Whatever. You do whatever you want. You usually do anyway.”  
“And I’ve bin thinkin’, dad. Ain’t there some way you could cross-subsidise this place with the arches, just til yer out of the woods? Just a small cash injection, say of five thou, and a new manager, you’d soon have this place on its feet again. What d’ya reckon?”  
Watching Phil, Ben sees a furtive expression pass over his face, and suddenly the penny drops. He rubs his eyes tiredly. “You ain’t got any money there either, have ya? They’re both goin’ bust.”  
When Phil doesn’t answer, he tries again. “I’m right, ain’t I?”  
“Get outta me way,” repeats Phil, pushing Ben to one side and kneeling to open the safe.   
He pulls out the cash box and grabs the wad of notes inside.  
“What you gonna use that for, dad?”  
Phil peels a hundred quid off the wad. “’S openin’ time, ain’t it? Gonna go and calm me nerves with a few soothing pints cos I can’t seem to GET ANY PEACE AROUND HERE!”  
“Dad, you can’t just siphon money off the business! You’ve gotta account for all that money.”  
A frown appears on Phil’s face. “Funny you should say that. Cos I’m pretty sure there’s at least a thousand missin’ from here.” He looks up at Ben with a face like thunder. “You bin creamin’ off the profits? What’s yer game, Ben?”  
Ben’s heart starts thumping. He takes a step back. “There ain’t no profits to cream dad! I paid Kush what he was owed and I just took out an ad in the paper. Wanna start gettin’ some interest in this place again. Get some trade goin’. It’s all in the book - it’s legit.”  
He’s aware that he’s gabbling. His mouth has gone dry. He stops and licks his lips nervously.  
“You paid out money behind me back?” thunders Phil. “Who the hell d’you think you are, eh Ben? That Kush was a no-good waste of space. Why would I pay him a penny?”  
“You owed him, dad.”  
“Yer throwin’ good money after bad! When you said you was gonna help, I thought you might actually turn this place around. Not just bleed it dry.”  
“You’ve gotta invest to get a return, dad. You know that better than anyone.”  
Phil pockets the money he’s taken out of the cash box, shaking his head. Ben watches him feeling something close to despair.  
“Dad, put that back, please. You can’t just drink this place dry.”   
Ben reaches out to take the cash box from Phil at the same time as Phil picks it up, ready to put it back in the safe. At Ben’s movement, Phil lashes out and the box in his hand lands a glancing blow on Ben’s temple. He staggers back, feeling a warm, sticky wetness just to the side of his eye. He raises a hand and it comes away bloody.  
“Keep outta things that are none of yer business!” yells Phil. “Get some cars sold here. Do whatever you wanna do, but you leave my money alone, you hear me?”  
He throws the cash box back down onto the desk, making Ben flinch, and strides out of the office.  
Ben sinks into his chair and finds a tissue in the drawer, then holds it to his temple. It comes away soaked in blood in a matter of seconds. He’s trembling and takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. At the back of his mind a steady voice is telling him over and over, Callum was right.   
That’s as maybe. Ben’s going to have to prove him wrong. He’s going to have to try harder.  
Sitting there alone in the office that suddenly feels deathly-quiet after Phil’s bellowing and shouting, with the adrenalin coursing through him and a shaky hand staunching the blood flowing from his face, Ben formulates a plan. 

SIX  
As Ben’s sitting there with the blood dripping down the side of his face, Callum texts. Sorry about earlier. I didn’t exactly help did I getting worked up about it all? Forgot all me police training about conflict resolution😊. I love you - never forget. Day off tomorrow, let’s make the most of it 😉 xx  
So that’s it. They’re in a conflict situation. To be fair, it normally happens a lot quicker. Three years is a pretty good innings. He sighs. He loves Callum too, is the thing, even if he doesn’t understand why Callum would love him back. He plays around with some possible replies to his text, but nothing seems to fit the bill. Anything he can think of sounds desperate or needy, or just plain soft.  
He heaves another big sigh and places his phone to one side without replying. It’s time to put his plan into action. He just needs to work out how he can get hold of good-looking Kush with the mighty-fine arse.  
He crosses to the small mirror above the washbasin in the corner, and inspects the damage to his temple. The lock on the cash box must’ve caught him. The skin’s torn, but not too deeply. It’s just caught him awkwardly. He wads up more tissue and holds it against it until the bleeding’s stopped, and then wipes the worst of the mess off with a damp tissue. He’ll live. He’s not even sure if his dad noticed he’d hurt him, he’d been so far gone with alcohol and righteous anger.  
The face staring back at him from the mirror looks tired, and sad. He practices a few half-hearted smiles, trying to fake it til he makes it, and then heads out of the office, locking it behind himself.   
Where would you find a good-looking very short-term ex-car lot manager with a nice arse in this neck of the woods?   
He heads over to the Minute Mart to ask behind the counter if anyone knows where the bloke lives. While the gods may not have been smiling on him so far today, they’ve obviously changed their outlook, because as he’s asking, who should step out from the central aisle, but the man himself.  
“Ah!” says Ben. “Just the man I need.”  
The bloke instantly adopts the look of a rabbit caught in headlights again. Ben’s almost tempted to run with it, chat the guy up and see how far he can get, but he needs this bloke. He can’t afford to scare him off. “You got a minute to come with me?” he asks instead.  
The bloke looks wary. “Depends what for.”  
“I’ve got a business proposition for ya,” says Ben as he leads the way out of the shop and over to the bench in the centre of the Square.  
“If it’s anythin’ to do with that car lot, I ain’t interested,” says Kush as they sit down.  
“What you doin’ these days then?” asks Ben. “You picked up work already?”  
“Well, no, but - ”  
“Listen. I’m in charge over there now. Me dad’s takin’ a back seat, so to speak.” Ben shifts round to face Kush and fixes him with his most earnest gaze. “Trouble, is, I run me own gaff up towards Truman Road, an’ I ain’t got time to run this place indefinitely.”  
Kush is shaking his head before Ben even finishes. “Nah, nah, seriously mate, I’d love to help, but I ain’t interested. Yer dad’s a psycho – no offence.”  
“None taken. Again,” says Ben. “What would it take for me to get ya back?”  
Kush chuckles sarcastically. “Danger money, mate.”  
Ben thinks for a few seconds, eyes closed. He notices Kush hasn’t got up and walked away. That’s a good sign. He’s clearly persuadable. “Right,” he says eventually, opening his eyes again. “Here’s the deal. You report to me. I keep Phil away from ya, let ya run the lot how you see fit, within reason, and for every car ya sell, ya get a hundred quid bonus on top of whatever me dad was supposed to be payin’ ya. What d’ya say?”  
“Hundred and fifty,” says Kush.  
Ben grins. “Like to strike a hard bargain, do ya? See, it’s that kinda cut-throat approach we need over there. I’ll give ya funds to place adverts, and a bit to brighten up the place, lick of paint, new banners. And…” He pretends to think. He’d been prepared to give Kush two hundred quid commission on every sale, but a hundred and fifty’s even better. He wouldn’t like Kush to think he’s a walkover though. “I’da preferred a hundred per car, but if yer gonna be awkward about it, I’ll give ya a hundred and fifty, on condition that ya sell at least three cars a week. If ya don’t it goes back down to a hundred, yeah?”  
“Yeah, should be doable, if I’ve got a bit of flexibility in how I run the place,” says Kush.  
Ben holds his hands up. “I ain’t gonna have anythin’ to do with it, mate, apart from comin’ over every now and again to check the books and approve any expenditure ya recommend. Deal?”  
Kush is still looking wary. Ben sees his eyes flicker up to the cut on his face. “How do I know you ain’t a psychopath like yer dad?” he asks.  
“Me?” says Ben, feigning offence. “Do I look like a psychopath?”  
Kush looks like he’d rather not answer, so Ben lays on the charm. “I’m a pussy cat, mate. Listen, I know me dad’s a bit dodge, but I ain’t a chip off the old block, nothin’ like.” He sits forward, confiding. “Me dad and me don’t exactly see eye to eye, partly cos me boyfriend’s a copper.” He smiles inwardly as he sees Kush’s eyes widen at that piece of information. “But he’s off-loaded the car lot to me for the time bein’ and I wanna make sure it’s a success again. I think you can help with that.”  
He sits back and waits for his words to have the desired effect. It’s all part of the game, knowing when to flatter and when to shut up. He can see Kush mulling it over, and then his eyes clear.  
Bingo! thinks Ben.  
“Yeah, alright then,” says Kush. “As long as I don’t havta deal with that psych – with yer dad.”  
“Everythin’ll come through me,” reiterates Ben, “And I’ll keep him off yer back. Deal?”  
“Deal,” says Kush, and they shake hands. “When d’ya want me to start?”  
“How ya fixed for right now?”   
He sees a frown come over Kush’s face. “I might need to review the offer if ya can’t start right away,” he adds. What d’ya say?”  
“Yeah, alright then,” says Kush, looking defeated and bamboozled in equal measure.  
“Excellent!” exclaims Ben, jumping up.   
“Can I just - ” Kush points back towards the Minute Mart. “I was just gonna get some lunch for meself.”  
“Oh! Yeah, course.” Ben fishes in his pocket and pulls out a fiver. “Get yerself whatever ya want, and get me a pasty and a can of coke an’ all. I’ll see you over the car lot in five minutes.”  
Still got it, he thinks as he makes his way back over to the lot. His shoulders already feel lighter. He’ll pop back to his own car lot later and catch up with Jay, and then head home ready to enjoy a day off tomorrow with Callum. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens up the text from Callum again. With a grin on his face he quickly keys in Been thinking about your truncheon all morning. Bring your handcuffs home? Xx   
He’s never used sex to resolve a conflict situation before, but he’s pretty sure it’ll work, at least short-term. It’s the only strategy he’s got at the moment.  
In return he gets a smiley face and a thumbs up.

Kush settled back in at the car lot, Ben takes the bus up to his own gaff and waits in the office while Jay’s chatting with a customer next to the Renault Clio they’d brought in last week. Ben had thought it wouldn’t hang around for long, and it seems he might have been proved right. His spirits lift as he sees Jay shakes hands with the bloke, evidently sealing the deal.  
“Sold?” he asks, as Jay comes back into the office.  
“Course, boss,” says Jay, trying not to look smug but failing dismally. “He’s comin’ back with the readies tomorrow mornin’.”  
“Excellent,” says Ben.   
“You alright?” asks Jay, peering at Ben’s temple.   
To be honest, Ben had almost forgotten about the cut on his face in all the satisfaction of getting Kush back to the car lot. “What? Oh, ‘s nothin’.” He throws a reassuring smile at Jay. “Just had a run-in with a cash box. Listen, how ya fixed for coverin’ tomorrow an’ all? I’ll be back the day after, but I just need a day with me man. Set things back on the right track, if ya know what I mean.”  
Jay looks like he’d rather not know. “No problem. In fact, any work you can throw me way, I’ll bite yer hand off at the moment.” He gives a little smile.  
“Oh yeah? Why’s that then?”  
“We just found out Lo’s pregnant. Gonna need all the money I can get.”  
Ben raises his eyebrows. “Blimey! You are, ain’t ya? Congratulations, mate.”  
He stares at Jay, wondering why he’s looking so pleased and not searching desperately for the nearest escape route from his life.   
“What?” asks Jay.  
Ben shakes his head, but then takes a deep breath. “How d’ya know yer gonna be together by the time the baby’s born? I mean, how d’ya know you’ll be together in nine weeks, let alone nine months?”  
Jay gives a confused laugh, evidently thinking that Ben’s joking, but then he sees that he’s being serious. “Cos we’re gonna make sure we are. We might not be married, but we’ve made a commitment to each other.” He stares a little closer at Ben. “You do know relationships don’t just happen, yeah? Or not, as the case may be. You do know you’ve got some control over whether they work or not.”  
“I dunno, Jay,” says Ben, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t feel like I’ve got a lot of control over mine sometimes.”   
“Yeah, but that’s cos yer emotionally constipated.”  
Ben huffs a laugh. “You bin talkin’ to Callum?”  
“You gotta talk to him. Talk, talk, talk, all the time. Tell him ya love him, and make him see that you do, through yer actions. Give him what he needs – and I don’t just mean how’s-yer-father!” adds Jay quickly when he sees the look on Ben’s face. “Make him see yer worthy of bein’ loved back.”  
“Yeah, I think that might be the problem,” says Ben. “I don’t know if I am.”  
“You ain’t murdered anyone, have ya?” asks Jay. “You don’t drown kittens in yer spare time, do ya? No, so yer probably as worthy as anyone, ain’t ya?”

Ben doesn’t drown kittens, but he does have a knack of saying exactly the right thing to cause maximum hurt to the person he loves the most. On the bus journey back home he resolves to make sure the evening and tomorrow are dedicated to making Callum feel appreciated. He puts all thoughts of Phil out of his mind.  
He gets back to the flat only a couple of minutes after Callum’s arrived home. He’ s emptying out his rucksack as Ben walks through the door, and when he sees him, he dangles his handcuffs from a finger. “Guess what I brought home?”  
“Excellent!” exclaims Ben, crossing to pull him into an embrace.  
As they pull apart, Callum’s expression changes. He grips Ben’s face softly in his hand, inspecting his temple. “What happened? Did he do this to ya?”  
His outrage is so extreme it makes Ben smile. “Nah, don’t worry. It was an accident.”  
“An accident, huh?” Callum looks disbelieving. “And Phil was nowhere near ya?”  
“It was an accident in the general vicinity of me dad, by pure coincidence,” says Ben soothingly. “Shut up and kiss me.”  
Callum does as he’s told, but still looks unconvinced when they come back up for air. He must see something in Ben’s expression, because he doesn’t pursue the subject anymore. “OK,” he says instead. “What d’ya wanna do? We can go and get some food from somewhere, or I can take ya to bed and cuff ya to the headboard.”  
Ben’s brain whites out for a second. “Well…” he says. “I ain’t very hungry at the moment, so…”  
“Right, come with me.”  
Ben loves when Callum takes charge. He can never keep up the pretence for long, which is why they’ve never really got very far with role play. Ben will usually end up sniggering at Callum’s attempts to be dominant and Callum will throw a strop, which will make Ben laugh even more, teasing Callum about how he ever manages to get taken seriously as a copper. Tonight though, he realises he doesn’t want anything other than to be in the arms of the man he loves, so he puts the cuffs to one side when they get into the bedroom and draws Callum into a long kiss.  
“What was that for?” asks Callum, when Ben ends the kiss and pushes him back on the bed. “You ain’t normally like…” he flounders around for the right word, and eventually settles on waving his hand in Ben’s general direction, “…that.”  
“A gentle, loving boyfriend, ya mean?” asks Ben with a grin. He plays with the button on Callum’s trousers. “I know I’ve bin ‘orrible lately, and I’m tryin’ to make it up to ya, OK? Just go with it, yeah?”  
“I ain’t complainin’,” says Callum.   
Ben unfastens Callum’s trousers and slips his hand inside, setting about getting him hard. He maintains eye contact with Callum as he does it, but sighs as he notices Callum’s gaze slide to the cut on his temple again. “Forget about it,” he murmurs.  
“Are you bein’ straight with me?” asks Callum. “Did that have nothin’ to do with yer dad?”  
“Cal, please,” begs Ben. “Can we just have one night without arguin’ about him?”  
“So it did,” says Callum, pushing Ben’s hand away and sitting up. “He hurt ya, didn’t he? Again.”  
“He never meant to,” says Ben, frustrated. “It was an accident.”  
Callum folds his arms and glares. “D’ you know how many domestic violence cases I deal - ”  
“For god’s sake, Callum! It ain’t domestic violence!” Ben can feel his anger growing. “Don’t make such a big deal about it! I told you it weren’t an issue, so can ya just believe me for once?”  
“I’ll kill him,” announces Callum. “If he lays a finger on ya again I will kill him.”  
Ben would take his indignation a little more seriously if he wasn’t sitting there looking outraged with his fly undone. He runs a hand down Callum’s thigh, trying to soothe himself as much as Callum. He can feel his resentment at this whole situation growing. Phil kicking off; Callum kicking off because Phil’s kicked off. Both of them treating Ben like a little kid. He spends so much of his life proving himself, proving that he’s not the waste of space that Phil’s always told him he is, and then Callum treats him like he’s incapable of handling his dad and just reinforces the message.  
“I’m a big boy” he says in a warning tone. “I can look after meself, and I don’t need a knight in shining armour, thank you very much.”  
“I ain’t tryna be - ”  
“I can look after meself, Callum,” says Ben in a firm, loud voice. “And to be honest, I’m getting’ a little bit sick of you tellin’ me how I ought to be reactin’ to me dad; what I should be doin’ - ”  
“I’m doin’ it because I care, Ben!” Callum takes a deep breath and busies himself with pulling his zip back up. “I’m doin’ it cos I love ya.”  
“ - and treating me like I ain’t got a brain of me own. I coped perfectly well before you come along - ”   
Callum huffs out a laugh. “That ain’t my recollection. I’d only known you a little while and he was knockin’ seven shades outta ya - ”  
“That wasn’t him!” Ben narrows his eyes and tried to telegraph to Callum that he needs to drop the subject, but Callum’s not taking note of the signs.  
“As good as! He stood there and watched while some other no-mark did it.” Callum is warming to his theme now. “I mean, what kind of a man watches his own son get beaten up and don’t even lift a finger to stop it?”  
Ben stands up and begins pacing around the room, holding his hands to his head in an attempt to rid it of the memories. “Please Cal, just - ”  
“My dad was exactly like Phil,” says Callum, swinging round and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Nasty, manipulative, always playin’ the victim. An’ I coulda jumped every time he said jump, but then I’d have bin under his thumb for the rest of me life, just like he wanted me to be. He got a kick outta controllin’ me. He didn’t love me, Ben. Phil Mitchell don’t love you, either. He just uses you any time it suits him. The only way you can ever have any control is to walk away from him. Kick him out yer life for good.”  
Ben just wants him to shut up now. “What? So I’ll be like you? No family to speak of - ”  
“Better no family than a loser who takes advantage of ya.”  
“No family and havin’ to latch on to the first bloke who shows an interest in you in a sad attempt not to be alone?”  
Ben’s got what he wanted. He’s shut Callum up, but he knows he’s gone too far as soon as the words leave his lips. He sees Callum’s eyes widen in hurt, and his mouth tighten. He stands up. “If that’s what you think happened between us, then I feel sorry for ya, Ben.” He shakes his head sadly. “I always thought you was jokin’ when you told me you never understood why I hung around; that you only ever wanted a one-night stand. Maybe you was just tellin’ the truth after all. And maybe I should stop tryin’ to flog a dead horse. You ain’t never gonna love me properly, cos you don’t know how to!”  
He strides out of the bedroom as Ben’s heart goes icy-cold. “What d’ya mean, love ya properly? I thought I was. I’m lovin’ ya as much as I can.”  
“Maybe that ain’t enough!” shouts back Callum. Ben hears him pick up his keys and cross to the front door. It slams shut behind him.  
So much for making tonight all about Callum. Phil’s come between them again. Ben curses and falls backwards onto the bed. He has no idea why he keeps trying with this relationship. He clearly doesn’t have the basic human skills to make it work. Maybe he’s not so very different to Phil, after all.

SEVEN  
Ben sits on the couch in the living room, his guts still frozen from Callum’s words earlier. It’s past eleven o’clock and Callum still isn’t back. Maybe he’s gone out to pull. Maybe even now, he’s in another man’s bed, telling him about the relationship he used to be in. About how he tried to love a bloke but only ever got it thrown back in his face. About how he’s given up, moved on.  
They might only have been here for a couple of months, but this room feels more like home than any other room Ben’s ever lived in – and he counts his childhood home in that. He gazes around, taking in the artefacts of their life together. The photos of them both on the walls, taken in happier times. The rug they’d bought together; the large, half-eaten bar of chocolate on the coffee table that Ben had bought Callum just because he knew it was his favourite; the West Highland terrier on the mantelpiece, which seems to have adopted its unimpressed stare again, glaring balefully at him. Ben thinks about Gladys, wonders if she’s looking down on him now and clicking her teeth at his stupidity. She always did like Callum more than him. In fact, Ben thinks she fell in love with Callum even before he did. She’ll be raining down god’s wrath on him now, appalled at how easily he’s thrown away something that was so good.  
He feels so helpless. He doesn’t know where to find Callum. He can’t go out and bring him back home, swear to him he’ll never mess up again, because he doesn’t even know where he is. He doesn’t think he wants to. His mind’s running overtime anyway, dreaming up all sorts of scenarios. Callum’s with another man. He’s lying injured in an alleyway somewhere. He’s just walked out and kept on walking, and he won’t ever be back.  
If Callum comes back, Ben will never see his dad again. He’ll make that promise. He knows what he wants now that it might be gone.   
He feels exhausted, but he knows he won’t sleep. He gets ready for bed and slides under the covers, his mind alert and his ears straining for the noise of the flat door. It’s over an hour before, despite his racing brain, he finally falls into a fitful sleep. When he half-wakes again a couple of hours later, he senses rather than feels Callum beside him in the bed. He has no idea how he didn’t hear him returning. He lies quietly listening to his breathing and feeling levels of relief he can hardly handle.  
“You awake?” he asks quietly.  
“Yeah,” replies Callum, quieter still.  
Ben turns over to face him. He can just about make out the silhouette of his face in the sparse light coming through the thin curtains. “I was worried about ya.”  
He hears Callum sigh. “I’m a big boy, Ben. I can look after meself.”  
Ben’s tempted to say ‘same’, but bites it back. “I’m glad you’re back,” he says instead.  
“Where else was I gonna go?” asks Callum.  
They lie in silence, together but only just. Ben’s hurtful words from earlier have created a distance between them. It’s only tiny, a matter of a few millimetres or whatever unit you measure emotions in, but it’s there, and if nothing changes between them, like a crack in a rock expanded by freezing water, it will only widen as time goes on, splitting them further and further apart. Ben longs to huddle into him, but he makes do with lying close, not quite touching him.  
“Where d’ya go?”  
“Vic. Then I went for a walk. Then I sat on the bench in the Square til it got too cold.”   
They lie in another prolonged silence. Outside there’s the sound of revellers on their way home, shouts and giggles, breaking glass as someone drops a bottle.   
Ben thinks about Callum sitting outside in the cold because he couldn’t bear to come home to him. “Are we – “His voice is husky. He clears his throat. “Are we splittin’ up?”  
The pause before Callum responds is unbearable. Ben’s about to repeat his question when Callum stirs. “I dunno.”   
The words are so quiet Ben has to strain to hear them. He takes a sharp intake of breath, his eyes watering and his brain going into panic mode.  
“I’ll do anythin’,” he says in a strangled voice. “I don’t wanna lose ya.”  
“You won’t though, will ya?” asks Callum. “You won’t do anythin’. Not for me, at least.” He turns over with his back to Ben. “Go to sleep Ben. We’ll talk about it in the mornin’.”’  
Ben stares at his broad shoulders and offers up a prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in that he can make this right.   
It’s still dark when he wakes again. He glances at the bedside clock. It’s just gone four. He hears Callum sniff and realises he’s awake again too. Or maybe he never went to sleep. He edges closer and snuggles up to his back, hoping he can pass it off as a random movement in his sleep. Callum is warm and comforting, like he always has been.  
After a few seconds, Callum shifts round and puts his arm around him, and they lie quietly until Ben slides an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to his neck.  
“I’m sorry,” he says.  
“I know you are.” Callum’s voice is flat, resigned. “Don’t mean you won’t do it again though, does it?”  
Ben closes his eyes. Callum’s right. He can’t guarantee that he won’t fuck up again. It’s what he does, isn’t it?  
Callum can’t tell him that they won’t split up over this, so this could be the last night they spend in the same bed. He feels like he wants to stay awake until morning comes, drinking in Callum’s scent and memorising the way he feels in his arms. He remembers how irrepressible Callum had been when they’d first had what Ben assumed was a one-night stand. He compares his easy humour and open chatter from then with the sad, quiet man he’s become, and hates himself for making that happen.  
He nuzzles into Callum’s neck and plants a tiny kiss on his jaw.  
“Ben - ”. Callum’s tone is warning, but there’s a sigh in his voice.  
Ben kisses him again, and again. Tiny, feather-light kisses. Callum lies very still and doesn’t respond until Ben’s lips find his in the dark, and then he flips them over and kisses back urgently, his body a solid, comforting weight on top of Ben. Ben lets out a low moan, and pulls Callum’s hips closer. He can feel that he’s getting hard, and then Callum’s tugging at Ben’s t-shirt, pulling it off over his head and easing his boxers down his legs. He wriggles around taking his own off and they’re suddenly skin against skin.  
Ben’s legs part instinctively and his knees rise to allow him access and Callum grabs lube from the bedside cabinet and then eases himself inside him, inch by inch, as if he, too, is cataloguing how Ben feels, committing this moment to memory. They move against each other, silent except for low moans and ragged breaths, and it’s all slow and agonising; heart-breaking.  
They do this so well together. They fit so well. Ben wants to tell him that he’s sorry; that he loves him; that he never wants to be apart from him, but it feels like sacrilege to utter a sound in that darkened room while their bodies convey messages their mouths can never find the words for.  
Callum comes with his face hidden in Ben’s shoulder, and lies there without moving for a long time afterwards. Ben hadn’t gotten off, but he doesn’t even care. He just wanted to be there for whatever Callum wanted. He strokes his hand through Callum’s hair and waits for him to come back down.  
“Are we OK?” he asks eventually.  
“Ben - ”. Callum rolls off him. His voice is anguished, and in just that one word Ben realises that nothing’s changed. This hasn’t made anything better.   
He bites back a sob. “I won’t see me dad again. If that’s what you want. I promise.”  
“You can’t promise that,” says Callum. “And I can’t make ya promise, it wouldn’t be fair. But I also can’t stand by and watch him hurt ya. He’s keepin’ ya small, Ben, an’ as long as he makes ya feel like yer nothin you’ll never be able to love anyone else.” He moves in close, his words earnest. “You are capable of love, Ben, It’s him stoppin’ ya from doin’ it.”   
They lie side by side in silence again, until much later Ben can hear from Callum’s breathing that he’s fallen asleep. He closes his eyes and tries to do the same, but sleep just isn’t coming. Eventually, at about quarter to five, he slips out of bed, pulls on his dressing gown, and creeps out to the living room.  
He’s still there, long-cold cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table, when Callum surfaces an hour or so later. He looks as sad as Ben feels. He crosses to the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with two mugs of tea, one of which he places in front of Ben, then sits across from him in the armchair and stares tiredly at him.  
“How long ya been out here?”  
Ben shrugs. “Hour, hour and a half.”  
Callum picks at the arm of the chair. “I dunno how we get through this,” he says.  
“D’you want to?”  
“Course I want to. I don’t wanna lose ya Ben, but I just don’t see a way through. As long as yer dad’s in the picture, we’re gonna be at loggerheads.”  
“Then I’ll make sure he’s outta the picture.”  
Callum shakes his head, and opens his mouth to protest.  
“Honest, Cal, I’ve bin doin’ a lot of thinkin’,” says Ben before Callum can utter the words that will put the nail in the coffin of their relationship. “Somethin’ you said last night, you was right. He don’t let me feel that I can love anyone, that I’m loveable. We was fine before he came back into the picture, wasn’t we?”  
Callum nods.   
“He’s what’s caused all this between us. I try so hard to make him feel somethin’ – anythin’ - positive towards me, let alone love me, and he never does. And I know, deep down, he never will, but it don’t stop me tryin’. I thought, you and me – we was the same, wasn’t we? You pushed and pushed to get me to love ya, and I resisted at first, cos I was scared of gettin’ hurt - ”  
“It ain’t the same thing at all, Ben,” says Callum sadly.  
“I keep goin’, tryin’ to make him love me, and underneath it all, I hate meself for it.” Ben reaches forward for his mug of tea. “And then I come home and you tell me exactly where I’m goin’ wrong with him, and I feel even worse.”  
“I never meant to make ya feel bad,” says Callum. “I just wanted - ”  
“I know, Cal. I know what ya wanted. But I’ve tried to tell ya that you ain’t helpin’, and you just don’t listen to me.”  
“I’m sorry,” says Callum.  
Ben sighs. “So am I. I lash out at ya, instead of tellin’ ya what I really need from ya.” He takes a sip from his drink and cups his hands around the warm mug. “I know I hurt ya, Cal, and that’s why I ain’t gonna have anythin’ to do with him anymore, Cos he makes me into a horrible person, and I couldn’t bear to lose ya cos of it.” He sits forward, fixing Callum with a keen gaze. “I’ve put a manager back in the car lot now. He can run the place, I’ll just sign off on the bills, and once it’s back on its feet after a month or so I’ll step aside, leave him to it. But I won’t need to have any contact with me dad in that time.”  
“You sure? asks Callum. He’s not looking convinced.  
“Positive,” says Ben. “Please let me try and show ya I can be better. Don’t give up on me.”  
Callum clears his throat. “You know that time you come home drunk? You know who you reminded me of? Me dad. And I don’t want that. I don’t want us to be like that.”  
“You never really talk about him.”  
“That’s cos it’s better to forget. I’ve made a life for meself and yeah, it was hard, walkin’ away, bein’ on me own for however long it took, but it was worth it in the end. I’m me own person now, and I’m happy. Well…”  
He tails off, but Ben knows what he was going to say. He was happy, until Ben pulled the rug out from under his feet, making him doubt whether he really loved him.   
“I should never have said that, ‘bout you latchin’ on to the first bloke you saw,” he says. “I didn’t mean it, I was lashin’ out, you know I was. I love ya, and I don’t know what I’d do if you wasn’t in me life.”  
“ ‘S OK,” says Callum, but they both know it isn’t. Ben doesn’t know what to do to fix it right now, but he’s going to try his hardest to put it right.  
He tries and fails to fight off a yawn.   
“You should go back to bed,” says Callum. “You look knackered.”  
“Will ya come with me?” asks Ben.  
Callum gives him a sad smile. “Yeah, course.”  
Back in bed, Ben curls up against Callum and Callum cradles his head in his hand, scratching gently at his scalp. It’s soothing, and Ben dares to hope that they can get through this, come out of it stronger.   
“We should think about bookin’ that holiday you was on about,” he murmurs, the warmth of Callum’s body making his pulse slow and his breathing lengthen out.  
“Yeah, could do,” says Callum.  
“Where would ya wanna go?”  
Callum thinks for a minute. “Somewhere fun, where we can let our hair down and have a good time.”  
“Sunny?”   
“Course. Sun, sea, sand.”  
“And sex,” fills in Ben.  
Callum lets out a gentle laugh. “Goes without sayin’. What about Ibiza?”  
Ben doesn’t much care where they go, as long as they’re together. If Callum had suggested a trip to the local municipal tip Ben would have been packing their bags in double quick time. “Sounds good,” he murmurs, sleepiness making his words slow and slurred. “Lets get some kip and then set about bookin’ somethin’.”  
When he wakes nearly four hours later, Callum’s sitting up in bed beside him tapping away at the laptop.  
Ben snuggles in close and peers at the screen. “Started without me, have ya?”  
“There’s some brilliant last-minute deals,” says Callum. “Look at this one, seven nights all in, cheap as chips. We’d be flyin’ out in three weeks though. Twelfth of September. Is that too short notice?”  
“Not for me it ain’t.”  
“Shall we book it?”  
Ben drags himself up to a sitting position and plants a kiss on Callum’s shoulder. “Yeah, go for it.” A sudden thought occurs to him. “We never really had a honeymoon, did we?”  
Callum fixes him with a level stare. “We ain’t ever got married, Ben. That’d be why.”  
“Well, this can be our non-married non-honeymoon”  
“What? Like, a holiday, ya mean?”  
“Yeah,” says Ben with a chuckle. “Like one of them. Hey Cal, I think I’ve just invented somethin’ I’m gonna call a ‘holiday’.  
“Yeah, proper genius you are,” says Callum, rolling his eyes. He pushes the laptop to one side and gives Ben a thorough bear-hug. “I do love ya though.”  
“Yeah, I love ya too.”   
Ben notices his phone is flashing to tell him he’s got a message. He stretches over to pick it up. It’s a text from Phil. Thought of a way you can help bail me out. Call me when you get this.

EIGHT  
He feels like he’s just been punched in the guts. At least in all this mess, Phil had kept his distance, never tried to contact Ben first. The fact that he just has can’t be a good sign. After all the anguish of the last few hours, it had finally felt like Ben and Callum were getting back on an even keel. He’s not an idiot, he knows one short, jokey conversation isn’t going to make them right again, but it had at least felt like they were on the same page. They were tentatively building a foundation to a more solid relationship. Now, with one brief text, Phil Mitchell has the potential to sweep it all away.   
Ben leans heavily over the bathroom sink and takes deep breaths. What was it Jay had told him? You do know you’ve got some control over whether relationships work or not? Well if that’s the case with the relationships you want, it must be the case with those relationships you don’t want – at least not in the form they’re offered to you. Ben can refuse to reply to Phil. He doesn’t think for one minute that will deter him, but at least it’ll put off the time when Ben has to step up, tell him where to go, for the sake of the relationship he does want with Callum. He splashes water on his face and dries it off with a towel, taking a few more deep breaths into the towel for good measure, and then goes back into the bedroom, fixing a cheerful smile on his face.  
Callum is still tapping away on the laptop, concentrating hard. “And…I’m…done. I’ve paid on me card. You owe me two hundred and fifty quid.”  
“Cheap at half the price,” says Ben breezily. He gets back into bed and gently takes the laptop from Callum. “I wanna do somethin’ else now. Somethin’ a bit more physical.”  
“You don’t have to,” says Callum, with a weird reticence to his tone.  
Ben huffs a laugh. “What?”  
“I get it, yer tryin’ to be a better boyfriend, but ya don’t havta - ”  
“Callum, this ain’t about me bein’ a better boyfriend. This is about me bein’ horny at the same time as I’m in bed with an incredibly attractive bloke who I happen to know is very accomplished at the old S.E.X. This is pure selfishness on my part.”  
“Oh well, in that case…” Callum flashes a faint smile and then leans over him and starts working up his hard-on. Ben tries to relax into it.   
“Wait, wait!” he says eventually. “Hold on a sec.” He reaches over and switches off his phone. When he lies back down, Callum is staring at him quizzically.  
“Don’t wanna be disturbed,” says Ben. “Jay was gonna call me today about a car auction.”  
“Right,” says Callum, taking him in hand again.  
Ben lies back and tries to ignore how easily the lies come to him.

“We’re good at that, ain’t we?” he asks as they’re both lying, panting, afterwards.  
“We are,” agrees Callum. “In a minute, when I’ve got me breath back, I’m gonna make ya a cuppa and some toast. D’ya realise we ain’t eaten in hours?”  
“Well, we need to keep our strength up if we’re gonna go again in a few minutes,” says Ben.   
“Oh, we’re goin’ again, are we?” asks Callum, wiping sweat off his brow.  
“Yep. Today was always supposed to be about makin’ ya feel good, so that’s what I’m gonna do, even if it did go a bit off-kilter to start with.” Ben slides out of bed. “I’ll go and get the toast. You just lie there and look pretty.”  
He grabs his phone as he gets out of bed, and switches it back on as he heads to the kitchen. Another text from Phil. Did you not get my last text? Call me.  
Ben sighs heavily and rests his head in his hands, elbows on the kitchen counter, as he waits for the kettle to boil.  
“Y’alright?” asks Callum, coming quietly up behind him.   
“Yeah babe, won’t be long,” says Ben, standing upright again and pasting on a neutral expression. “Whatcha doin’ up?”  
Callum gestures behind himself. “Need the loo. Can ya put jam on me toast? Not that marmalade stuff you insist on.”  
Ben forces a smile. “What’s wrong with marmalade?”  
“Food of the devil, that’s what.”  
“Weirdo.”  
With Callum in the bathroom, Ben’s fingers hover over his phone. Should he send a reply to his dad now? Should he ignore him completely? He’s going to have to tell Phil to butt out of his life sometime soon. Or maybe he could just ghost him, stop replying to any of his communications until Phil gets the message. Somehow, Ben doesn’t think that would work. He sighs, and decides to do nothing for now. When he takes the tea and toast back into the bedroom, he leaves the phone on the counter in the kitchen.

He steels himself not to answer Phil for the rest of that day, and all the next day when he’s at work. He tries not to look at his phone but can’t resist checking how many messages he’s got at regular intervals. Before he leaves for home, the count is four, plus one from Callum: Come home pronto tonight, cooking you tea x  
So, they’re both making an effort. Both trying to make this work. Ben can’t help feeling though that the relationship they’re trying to build is set on flimsy foundations. He’s already lying to Callum again, or at least lying by omission. On the bus journey back to him he sits reflectively, tapping his phone on his chin and trying to work out a way of squaring the circle. Responding to Phil while honouring his commitment to Callum. By the time he gets home his head is spinning, but he’s still not made that call to Phil.  
When he gets in, Callum is putting the finishing touches to steak and chips. Watching him dish up the chips, painstakingly ensuring that they each have an equal number, with concentration levels that cause his forehead to wrinkle, Ben is overwhelmed by his love for him. He can’t give this up. He’s got to find a way of making it work.  
He crosses the kitchen and clasps his hands around Callum’s waist from behind. “This looks nice. What’s the occasion?”  
“No occasion,” says Callum, as Ben kisses his shoulder through his t-shirt. “Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for ya.”  
He adjusts the chips on one of the plates and puts down the serving spoon, then twists in Ben’s arms and draws him into a long lingering kiss. “Good day at work?” he asks afterwards.  
“Yeah, not bad,” says Ben, casting aside thoughts of how he’d spent most of the day staring at his phone in dread. “D’ya know what, it’s a pity we ain’t got a dining table. This could be quite romantic. Few candles, nice place settin’s.”  
“Ah!” Callum pulls away from him and goes rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers. He emerges with a triumphant exclamation, brandishing a solitary tea light. “Knew I’d seen this somewhere. It was here when we moved in.” He lights it using the flame from the gas stove, and then takes it out to the coffee table.  
“See, that makes all the difference,” says Ben, watching him from the kitchen doorway. “I already feel sixty-seven per cent more romantic.”  
Callum grins at him and comes back to collect the plates of food. “Only sixty-seven per cent? I’ll avta work on that later. Bring the knives and forks.”  
They settle down to eat, side by side on the couch, and for a while there is silence as they both tuck in.  
“Lookin’ forward to that holiday,” says Ben eventually.  
“Yeah.”  
“What time’s the flight?”  
Callum gives him a level stare. “You mighta bin in the same bed as me but you had absolutely nothin’ to do with bookin’ it, did ya?” He rolls his eyes and relents. “Half eleven in the mornin’. ‘S a good deal. Normally with them things you’d be leavin’ at dawn, which means gettin’ up at some godawful hour of the night, but we struck lucky with this one.”  
There’s a knock on the door.  
They look at each other with furrowed brows.   
“Probably just someone sellin’ somethin’,” says Callum.  
The knock sounds again, louder this time. More insistent.   
Ben’s heart sinks. “I’ll go.”  
“Tell ‘em to get lost,” says Callum through a mouthful of chips. I’m tryin’ to have a nice meal with me man.”   
Ben knows who it’ll be before he even gets to the door. He curses himself for not just calling Phil earlier.  
“Your phone broke, is it?” he asks when Ben opens the door.  
“Dad, how d’ya know where I live?” asks Ben.  
“Cos ya live in Albert Square,” says Phil. “Everyone knows everyone.”   
He looks better than Ben’s seen him for a while. He’s still got the tremors, but he’s not slurring his words. He looks beyond Ben to the living room, to Callum eating his steak and chips on the couch. “Very cosy,” he says, with a sneer in his voice.  
Ben hears Callum’s cutlery hit his plate, and then he’s crossed to stand behind him. “Can we help ya?”  
Phil stares at Callum in astonishment. “YOU can’t do anythin’ for me, mate. I’m here to talk to me son.”  
Ben can feel Callum bristling behind him. He waves him away. “Cal, go and finish yer tea, I’ll deal with this.” He’s thankful that Callum listens to him. He goes to pick up his plate and then disappears into the kitchen.  
“’Deal’ with it?” repeats Phil. “Yer gonna ‘deal’ with me, are ya? You couldn’t ‘deal’ yer way out of a paper bag.”  
“What d’ya want dad?” Ben stands squarely in the doorway, preventing Phil from coming into the flat.   
“I told ya in me text.   
“So what is it? This idea you’ve got?”  
Phil stares at him as if he’s stupid. “I ain’t gonna tell ya here, am I? With Bent Copper flappin’ his ears in this direction. Call me tomorrow, we’ll sort it out then.”  
Ben hesitates. The casual way in which Phil assumes he’ll do exactly as he’s told makes his hackles rise, beside the fact that he doesn’t want to get drawn into anything Phil’s planning. Just the fact that he won’t talk about it now means that it’s dodgy. Just what Ben needs! One hint of anything that’s not legit and he and Callum really will be over.  
“Come on, princess,” says Phil. “You said you wanted to help, and I’m givin’ ya the chance to help. Time for ya to step up Ben, prove that yer a real man. Prove yer worthy of bein’ me son.”  
His gaze is mocking, and Ben fights off the feeling he always gets with his dad. That of being a little kid again, desperate to win his approval. He opens his mouth, ready to give Phil excuses, reasons why he can’t get involved, trying not to get tongue-tied, but he’s reckoned without his secret weapon.  
There’s a step behind him, and then Callum is pushing him out of the way. “Right, that’s enough! Where d’ya get off, eh Phil? He’s not interested in anythin’ you’ve got to offer.”  
“Cal,” says Ben quietly.  
“And he don’t need to ‘prove’ himself to you!” continues Callum. His fists are clenched at his sides and Ben can see that the back of his neck has gone red. “If anythin’, it should be the other way round.”  
“You what?” asks Phil, eyes wide in amusement.  
“You ain’t never stepped up for your boy.” Callum points behind himself at Ben. “This man is a loving, caring, beau-iful person, and you’ve never seen it.”   
Phil guffaws at the word ‘beautiful’.  
Callum carries on regardless. “You’ve just tried to knock it all out of him cos he don’t measure up to what your idea of bein’ a man is. Well let me tell you, he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”  
Ben holds his breath. Phil is going puce, right before his eyes. He puffs up his chest and takes a swaggering step forward.  
“Who the hell d’you think you are, Mr Bent Copper? Big tough man, are ya? Takin’ it on yerself to fight my son’s battles for him? I tell ya somethin’, the pair of ya make me sick! Poncing around playin’ happy families together - ”  
“Oh we ain’t playin’,” says Callum. “We ARE happy, and we are a family. Your son makes me happy, and I hope I do the same for him. And we don’t need your approval for any of it. Your opinion don’t count for anythin’.” He punctuates his last sentence with a finger jabbed in Phil’s direction.  
“Is that right?” asks Phil slowly. He turns his gaze on Ben. “You don’t care about my opinion? Cos last time I looked you couldn’t do enough to get me approval.”  
“Not anymore,” says Callum.  
“That right, Ben?” asks Phil. “Or ya gonna let the organ-grinder do all yer talkin’ for ya? Not even man enough to tell yer old dad what ya really think? You have to get some jumped up little pansy to do it for ya?”  
“Right, that’s enough!” says Callum. “You don’t come ‘ere again, you hear me?”  
Phil stares hard beyond Callum at Ben. Ben’s legs are trembling, but he tries to hold his ground; hold Phil’s gaze. “I think it would be best if ya went, dad,” he says in a voice which only shakes a little.  
Phil scoffs. “Right, I’m off. But you’d better call me tomorrow, you hear?”  
He turns and Callum slams the door behind him before he’s even taken a step, then crosses to sink down on the couch, avoiding Ben’s gaze.  
Ben is rooted to the spot for a few seconds. He can’t fight the feeling that if he opened the door again, Phil would still be there, gazing right at him with scorn in his eyes. The feeling doesn’t leave him all evening.   
Eventually he goes to sit beside Callum.  
“Proper little knight in shinin’ armour, ain’t ya?” he says when it becomes clear that Callum’s not going to speak first. Callum’s fists are still clenched, and he’s banging one hand repeatedly on the arm of the couch. Ben reaches out and covers it with his own, stilling Callum’s actions.  
“Sorry,” mumbles Callum eventually.  
“No, no, it was proper sexy, you stickin’ up for me like that.” Ben swings round and cuddles into Callum. He can feel how tense the older man is, and the anger is emanating off him in waves. “I can fight me own battles, though. You know that, right?”  
“If ya say so,” says Callum, still sounding aggressive. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. He puts an arm around Ben and strokes at his shoulder. “Sorry, I…uh. I think some of that was stuff I always wanted to say to me own dad. All came out in a rush.”  
Ben rubs a comforting hand over his thigh. “Feel better now?”  
“Yeah.” Callum lets out a little chuckle. “Just makes me so mad, how men like that think they’re so much better than men like us. How they try to make us small.”  
“Yer right though, ain’t ya?” asks Ben, something suddenly becoming clear to him. “We ARE a family, ain’t we?”  
“Yeah.” Callum plants a kiss on the top of his head. “We get to choose our family, Ben, and it ain’t always the one we grew up in.” He rests his head on top of Ben’s and they sit in silence for a while. Eventually, Callum stirs.  
“You ain’t gonna phone him tomorrow, are ya?”  
“Nah,” says Ben quietly after a second’s hesitation in which he sees again the scorn in Phil’s eyes. “Nah, course not.”

NINE

Ben braces himself with his fists grasping the rails of the headboard as it bangs against the wall with every thrust. Callum’s always known what he was doing in the bedroom department. He’s a dream, and Ben struck lucky when Callum decided he was the one he wanted. He’s big, just the way Ben likes it, filling him up, but Ben’s mind keeps wandering as he still sees the scorn on his dad’s face from last night every time he tightens himself around Callum. He screws his eyes shut and concentrates on the here and now; concentrates on making this good for Callum. He’s thrusting harder and faster, pushing Ben up the bed on every stroke, until Ben can finally feel himself zoning out, everything fading around him apart from the feel of Callum all over him and inside him, his scent and the sounds they’re both making. His brain is finally flipping off and animal instinct taking over.   
Callum’s losing his rhythm now, thrusting haphazardly and uttering low, guttural groans with every stroke. Ben’s running a tight, fast fist up and down his own length and they both tip over the edge at pretty much the same second, Callum tensing and then releasing inside Ben with one final grunt just before Ben feels his own orgasm washing over him with an intensity that leaves him boneless and shaking in the aftermath.  
He holds Callum close as they both come back down. “Felt like you was makin’ a point there,” he murmurs into Callum’s sweat-damp hair.  
“Yeah, well, dads,” says Callum simply. “Needed to get a bit of pent-up frustration out.” He raises his head to scrutinise Ben’s face. “I didn’t hurt ya, did I?”  
“Nah, course not. I can take it like a pro.”   
Callum gives him a severe look but then lies back down to rest his head on Ben’s shoulder.  
“Yer dad ever know about you?” asks Ben. “That you were gay?”  
“He never said,” says Callum, sounding drowsy. “Reckon he probably did though. Reckon he knew before I did. That’s why I got so many beatin’s. Tryin’ to knock it out of me, just like your dad.”  
Ben murmurs a sound of agreement.  
“ ‘S why I tried to be straight for so many years,” continues Callum. “Didn’t work though.”   
“Evidently,” says Ben, chuckling softly.  
You ain’t gonna phone Phil today, are ya?” asks Callum, with an edge to his voice.  
The smile on Ben’s face fades. “Nah, I already said. Today is a Phil-free zone.”  
He’s not sure he’s convinced Callum, and he’s absolutely sure he hasn’t convinced himself. How can he not contact his dad, when this could be the one thing he could do to get his dad out of financial trouble and off his back for good? There’s no harm in finding out what he wants, surely? Doesn’t mean Ben has to agree to it.  
“You’re gonna be late if ya don’t get up soon,” says Callum, half-asleep again.  
“Why don’t we ever synchronise our days off?” muses Ben.  
“Dunno,” mumbles Callum. “Maybe it’s a subconscious need to spend as much of yer time away from me as possible.”  
Ben glances down but he can’t see Callum’s face. “You are jokin’, ain’t ya? Tell me yer jokin’.”  
“I’m jokin’ babe,” says Callum sleepily. “I know how ya feel about me, you don’t need to worry.”  
“If I had the choice, I would spend every second of every day in bed with you,” says Ben, shifting round to plant a kiss on Callum’s chin, which is the only part of his face he can see.  
“Same,” says Callum. “There’s always our non-honeymoon. We don’t havta go outside the hotel room at all if we don’t want. Sea and sand’s over-rated anyway.” He shifts round too and captures Ben’s lips in a long kiss.  
Eventually, reluctantly, Ben pulls away. “This is gonna get outta hand if I don’t get up now. Go back to sleep, babe. I’ll bring you in a cuppa before I leave.”  
He gets ready for work feeling his muscles and arse tingling, humming to himself as he moves around the flat. Before he leaves, he drops off a cup of tea to Callum. The older man is sound asleep again, and Ben presses a soft kiss to his forehead before leaving quietly so as not to disturb him. He doesn’t know what he’d do without this man in his life.   
His phone pings with a message as he leaves the flat, and immediately he’s on high alert again, shoulders hunched, brain racing a mile a minute. It’s from his dad. Of course it’s from his dad. Call me. 

As he waits for the call to connect, Ben watches through the opened blind as a bloke peers in through the window of the Subaru outside on the lot. Just as Ben’s about to hang up, his call is answered.  
“Dad.”  
“Oh, remembered me number then, have ya?”  
Ben stifles a sigh, and keeps himself calm by remembering the roll of Callum’s hips as he moved inside him earlier. “What can I do for ya?”  
“Right, I’ve got a deal goin’. Bloke’s gonna supply thirty cars which we sell and take a thirty percent cut. Nothin’ up-front, it’s a no brainer.”  
“OK, but what’s that gotta do with me?” asks Ben.  
“Thirty’s a lot to shift in a short space of time. I’m gonna need to do it via both lots.”  
Ben sits down on the customer seats underneath the window. “What?” Even to his own ears his voice sounds small.  
“Yours and mine. Both lots, fifteen cars each, and I’ll give you a cut. Only a small one, mind, cos I need most of it to set the businesses back straight. Say, five thou?”  
“Dad, no, I - ”  
“Whatsa matter, you chicken?”  
“No, course not, but I’m legit now, dad.”  
Phil’s voice hardens. “Yer flouncy rottweiler of a ‘boyfriend’ don’t need to know, if that’s what yer worried about. It’s a quick job, two weeks max, dependin’ on whether ya pull yer finger out and get ‘em sold.”  
“Dad, c’mon - ”  
“I stand to make a good forty to fifty thou on this deal, Ben. Do not let me down, you hear me?”  
Ben feels the weight of his entire miserable childhood descend on his shoulders. “Have you already signed up?”  
“Course. Deals like this don’t come along every day. I need you to step up and act like a man, Ben, even if it don’t come natural to ya. I’ll be in touch with the details.”   
The phone goes dead, and Ben feels like throwing it across the office. He throws it onto the chair beside him instead, and buries his face in his hands. Fuck! So much for finding out what Phil wanted and then leaving him to it. Ben never, ever learns. He should have just ignored his dad, like Callum told him to.   
He spends a lacklustre day haunting his car lot, unable to settle to anything and probably convincing any customers that they’d be better off going somewhere else for their transport needs, given the absolute lack of enthusiasm he can muster for selling cars. In quieter moments he feels like crying. He can’t see a way out. He can’t say no to Phil because there will be consequences, but if he says yes to him, the consequence will be that he loses Callum. He’s scared of both. He’s been kidding himself that he can handle his dad, convincing himself he’s an adult who can no longer be manipulated or intimidated, but it’s pretty clear none of that is true. He feels like an idiot. He can only guess what Callum will have to say if he finds out.  
By four o’clock he realises he may as well not be at the car lot, and shuts up early. He’s desperate to pop in to the Albert for a quick one or two, but nothing would be more likely to give away to Callum that he’s been in touch with his dad again, despite assuring him he wouldn’t, so he trudges home, taking a deep breath before he fits the key in the front door.  
“Alright gorgeous?” says Callum from where he’s sitting on the floor of the living room with clothes strewn all around him. “You early?”  
“Yeah, ‘s bin dead all afternoon. Whatcha doin’?” asks Ben, feigning a cheerfulness he doesn’t feel.  
“Sortin’ out me wardrobe,” says Callum. “Workin’ out what I can take on holiday. First of September today, only another eleven days!”  
“Nah, yer not gay at all, are ya?” asks Ben, crossing to sit behind him on the couch and bending over to plant a kiss on the top of his head. “Can’t imagine yer dad would ever have guessed.”  
Callum twists round to give him an unimpressed look. “Speakin’ of dads, you heard from yours today?”  
“Nah.”  
“You didn’t bother phonin’ him then?” Callum is watching him closely.  
Ben stands up and heads for the kitchen. “Nah, course not. I said I wouldn’t.”  
“And he didn’t try and get in touch with ya?”  
“Nope. Why’s me tea not on the table?”  
“Cos we ain’t got a table,” quips Callum.  
“And we ain’t got no tea, neither,” points out Ben.  
“That’s cos I thought I’d treat ya to fish ‘n’ chips. That do ya?”  
Ben goes back into the living room and flings himself on the floor alongside Callum. “Perfect. Yer a diamond, you are.”  
“I have bin led to believe that might be the case,” says Callum, leaning over him and kissing him. 

It’s exhausting, keeping up a cheerful façade. By the time they’re finishing off their fish and chips Ben’s fighting a losing battle. He zones out for the umpteenth time, preoccupied with the deal with his dad, twisting his brain in knots trying to work out how he can turn him down.  
He becomes aware that Callum’s watching him closely. “What did he say?” he asks eventually.  
Ben comes to with an effort. “Huh?”  
“Yer dad.” Callum’s voice is tight. “What did he say when ya spoke to him?”  
Ben adopts a look of confusion, knowing that Callum will see right through him immediately.  
“Don’t lie to me no more, Ben. I can tell ya spoke to him, so what did he say?”  
So this is it. This is where the consequences of getting involved with Phil Mitchell begin to make themselves apparent. This is where everything he’s got with Callum starts to unravel. He takes a deep breath and tries for airy cheerfulness. “Oh, nothin’ much. Wanted me to come in on a dodgy deal he’s got goin’.”  
Callum is still watching him closely, holding himself still as if he’s dreading what Ben’s going to say next. “And will ya?”  
“Nah, course not. I told him I’m legit now. Wasn’t interested.”  
“And he left it at that, did he?”  
Ben sighs. “For now. ‘S’pect he’ll keep hasslin’ me for weeks to come, but what can ya do?”  
“You can stop gettin’ in contact with him, like you told me you was gonna do,” suggests Callum in an icy voice. “Honestly, Ben, what was ya thinkin’?”  
“Oh, here we go!” exclaims Ben, immediately defensive. He knows he’s an idiot. He doesn’t need Callum to tell him.  
“Don’t give me that!” says Callum, his voice rising in volume. “You swore to me you weren’t gonna get in touch with him.” He gets up and begins pacing the room. “How can I trust ya on anythin’ you say? You lied to me!”  
“I lied to ya,” begins Ben, slicing the air with his hands to make his point. “I lied to ya, cos sometimes a little white lie is better than the truth, Callum.”  
“You don’t get to decide what I do or do not need to know, Ben.” Callum flings his arms out in that way he always does when he’s angry. “I am a big boy, I can handle the truth, but what’s the point of us even bein’ together if you ain’t gonna be straight with me?”  
“It don’t matter!” exclaims Ben. He feels like crying, knowing that they’re getting perilously close to the precipice again, and all thanks to his dad piling on the pressure. He stands up and makes a move towards Callum, but Callum steps away from him, back towards the mantelpiece. “I never lie to ya on the important stuff!”  
Callum shakes his head in disbelief. “You don’t get to decide what’s important, Ben. I thought we was a partnership; I thought we took on the world together.” He points a finger at Ben. “I tell you everything. I am totally honest with ya, but you are always hidin’ stuff from me. How can I trust ya? What’s the point of any of this if I can’t trust ya?”  
All Ben hears in his words is rejection. He takes another step closer, pleading. “Please, Cal, I’m in this relationship as much as you are.” He reaches out a hand to cup Callum’s face in his hands. “I want this as much as you do.”  
“I’m not sure ya do, Ben,” says Callum. He flings out an arm to block Ben’s move, and the impetus knocks Gladys’ West Highland Terrier clean off the end of the mantelpiece. It smashes into pieces on the floor.  
There is an awful silence. Callum looks mortified. Ben can’t help thinking it’s a sign of some kind. He drops to the floor to inspect the damage. The ornament is in three pieces, damaged beyond all repair as far as he can see. He picks up the pieces and clutches them pathetically to his chest, and then the events of the last couple of days overwhelm him at last, and tears trickle down his cheeks. 

They’d ended the day in silence. After Callum had apologised over and over for the damage to the ornament, there’d been nothing. No words. Ben supposes there isn’t a lot they can say to each other. He’s lied and now Callum can’t trust him. That’s the long and the short of it, and what’s the point in sticking in a relationship if there’s no trust?  
It’s 4am now. He’s lying awake, head propped on an elbow, watching Callum sleep and trying to imagine a life without him. It’s not hard. Empty days with no one to share his thoughts and feelings. Empty days in which he spends most of his energy convincing himself he’s OK. It’s not hard to imagine. It’s what his life was like before Callum came along.   
It won’t be like that for Callum though. He’s such a lovely man, so open and caring, he won’t have any trouble finding someone else to love; someone who’ll love him back in the way he wants them to, not in the way Ben does; in a tentative, half-formed, disfigured way.  
Ben can feel the tears building again, a tightness in his chest and a prickle at the back of his eyes. Nothing he does will ever be right. He’s an idiot to think he could ever break free of his dad. An idiot, too, to think that he could ever have what seems to come to other people so easily: love and a family, whatever that family looks like.  
When they wake the next morning, there are still very few words between them. Ben’s afraid of saying the wrong thing, provoking Callum again, and Callum is edgy and awkward. They part to go to work without their customary kiss, and Ben heads off to the car lot feeling that his world is crashing down around him. It feels like he should be screaming and shouting in protest, but he goes through the motions of his day, hearing his voice saying the right things at the right times, and quietly drowning inside under the wave of despair he feels. For all he knows, Callum might not even be there when he gets home. He might have decided to call it a day before things get any worse; closing the door behind him on a relationship that was never going to work.

When he gets back to the flat after work, feeling absolutely exhausted, he opens the door tentatively, steeling himself for the signs that Callum’s gone. Instead, he hears noises from the kitchen. Callum is hunched over the counter, newspaper spread out in front of him and a tube of glue in his hand. He’s gluing the pieces of Gladys’ ornament back together.   
He glances round as he hears Ben come into the room and fixes him with an uncertain gaze. “You OK?”  
Ben shrugs tiredly.   
“Think I might be able to salvage it,” says Callum, nodding down at the ornament. “They were more or less clean breaks, nothin’ missin’, as far as I can see.”  
“You didn’t have to - ” begins Ben.  
“I did, Ben,” insists Callum. “I know how much this thing means to ya.”  
For the umpteenth time in the last couple of days, Ben feels like crying. He crosses to stand behind Callum and reaches his arms around his waist, nestling his head against his shoulder. Callum stands stock still, but he doesn’t push him away.  
“I’m sorry,” whispers Ben. “I’ve messed up, but I don’t know how to make it right.”  
“Nor do I,” says Callum quietly.  
Ben holds him tighter. “Don’t give up on me. Please?”  
There’s no response from Callum.  
“Let me take ya to bed,” says Ben, trying one more time. “I wanna make it up to ya.”  
“Nah, I don’t want that,” says Callum. He turns in Ben’s arms. “Seems like we’re startin’ to use sex as a stickin’ plaster. Any time somethin’s gone wrong, we have sex and think everythin’’ll be alright again, and I don’t want that. I want it to be somethin’ we do cos we’re happy. Cos we love each other.”  
“But I do love ya!” exclaims Ben, stroking a soft hand over Callum’s cheek. Callum’s eyes are blank, guarded.  
“C’mere,” he says, pushing Ben’s arms away from him. He leads the way into the living room and lies down on the couch.   
Ben stands in the doorway and stares at him, uncertain.  
“C’mere,” repeats Callum, beckoning at him.  
Ben does as he’s told and lies down next to Callum. He feels Callum’s strong arms enclose him, and they lie quietly, just holding each other and taking comfort from each other’s warmth.  
“What’s gonna happen to us?” asks Ben eventually.  
“Dunno,” murmurs Callum. “We’ve got the holiday comin’ up. Let’s spend some time with each other, with no one else gettin’ in the way, and see if we can’t re-set everythin’.”  
Ben understands the implication beneath his words. If they can’t re-set, if they come back from their holiday without having fixed anything, they’ll be over.   
His phone pings with an incoming message. He ignores it, and snuggles in closer to Callum, only opening it after Callum’s wriggled out from under him to make a quick visit to the bathroom twenty minutes later.  
It’s from his dad, as he expected. Got a date for delivery. 12th September. Keep it free, will be in touch with what’s needed from you.  
12th September. The day of their holiday.  
TEN  
They’re both counting down the days to their holiday, Callum with childish glee; Ben with a sense of dread. It feels like time has sped up: September the second passes; then the fourth; the ninth. Three days to their holiday, and Ben’s no nearer sorting out what he’s going to do. His dad is convinced he’ll be there to play his part in the deal; Callum’s convinced he’s going on holiday with him, because why wouldn’t he be?  
They’d reached a tentative understanding, him and Callum. After the last argument, they’d tacitly agreed that the holiday was going to be make or break time for them. Ben already knows they’re broken beyond repair if he can’t sort things out in the next two days. He feels a mounting sense of panic, and he’s irritable and short with everyone. It feels like he and Callum have crossed over a line into a world where neither of them is up-front with the other. Ben’s preoccupied, but sometimes he’ll emerge from a concerned stupor to catch Callum staring at him with a frown on his face. It clears as soon as Callum realises he’s looking at him, but not quickly enough for Ben not to notice, and Callum never says anything so Ben doesn’t know what’s bothering him. Each of them seems to be retreating into their own little world, living side by side but apart.  
“You have sorted out Jay for car lot cover, ain’t ya?” asks Callum as they’re watching telly that evening.  
“Yeah, babe. I already told ya.”   
It’s not lying, not strictly speaking. Ben has asked Jay to cover the car lot, but not on the morning they’re supposed to be flying out. He’ll be needed at the lot and he’ll need to keep Jay well away from it. The less he knows about the deal, the better. All he knows is that Ben’s sourced some good quality motors that’ll be a cinch to shift, and that’s why they’ve been running down their stock - so as to have enough space for the new arrivals. Ben’s clinging to increasingly slim margins of possibility. His dad hasn’t given him a time for the delivery of the cars, other than saying it’ll be sometime on the morning of the twelfth, but if Ben gets to the lot by seven-thirty that morning and they arrive by eight, he’ll have just enough time to rush across London and be at the airport before their gate closes at eleven. He just hasn’t told Callum he’s going to have to pop into work yet. If the cars don’t arrive by eight-thirty at the very latest, he’s stuffed, but he refuses to contemplate that possibility. He’s burying his head in the sand, which is ironic, because if everything goes pear-shaped he’s not going to be seeing any of that substance in the next week or so. He holds in the sigh that’s threatening to emerge from his lips and tries to become engrossed in the nature programme they’re watching.   
“Still can’t decide whether to take two pairs of jeans or one pair and three pairs of shorts,” says Callum. He nudges Ben when he doesn’t get an answer. “What d’ya reckon?”  
Ben looks round at him blank-eyed. “Huh?”  
“Two pairs of jeans or three pairs of shorts and one pair of jeans? How hot d’ya reckon it’s gonna be?”  
“Oh, uh, I dunno babe. You decide.”  
Callum gives him a hard stare. “You OK? You’ve been zoned out for, like, the last week. You do still wanna go on holiday, dontcha?”  
“Yeah, course I do babe.” Ben flashes him a big smile that takes a huge amount of effort. “Can’t wait.” He runs a reassuring hand down Callum’s thigh, but he can see from the corner of his eye that Callum’s still staring at him. “Yer missin’ the programme babe.”  
“You don’t seem very excited about goin’ away,” says Callum.  
Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m excited on the inside. Just gotta a few things to sort out at work before I can relax.”  
“Right,” says Callum, sounding unconvinced. He leaves it a few minutes and then says, “Funny how yer dad never got back in touch again.”  
“Babe, please,” exclaims Ben. “I’m tryna watch this.”  
“Sorry.” Callum gets up and heads for the kitchen. “Never realised you was so interested in monkeys.”  
Ben throws his head back on the couch and lets out the sigh he’d been holding in. In a way he’s thankful the deal’s going down in three days’ time. He doesn’t know how he’d cope with keeping this secret much longer. He’s lied in the past, of course he has, and he’s good at it. It just feels more stressful when it’s Callum he’s lying to. There’s so much more to lose if he’s found out.  
His phone pings with a text and he grabs it quickly. Phil. Delivery 8am Weds. Make sure yr there.  
Thank god! His plan’s going to work. He can feel the anxiety ebbing out of him. He texts back a quick OK and practically skips into the kitchen.   
Callum’s waiting for the kettle to boil, leaning up against the counter. “You want a cuppa?” he asks.  
Ben crosses to slide his arms around his waist. “Nah. Tell ya what I do want though.”  
“Oh yeah?”  
“Yeah. A proper good seein’-to. You up for an early night?”  
Callum looks unimpressed. “What’s suddenly put you in a good mood, grumpy-drawers?”  
“I am ALWAYS in a good mood,” says Ben. “Whatcha say? Gonna help me out, or do I have to go self-service?”  
Callum drapes his arms over Ben’s shoulders, clicking almost seamlessly into their normal, happy-go-lucky way of being around one another. Almost, but not quite. For a split-second Ben sees the effort he has to put into it. “You have such a poetic way of puttin’ things. Honestly, the romance is off the scale.”   
Ben ploughs on regardless. “Yer cavin’ though, ain’t ya? Yer gonna sort me out, ya can’t resist me.”  
“Hmm, not sure.”  
“If I throw in a blow job, will ya come to bed with me?”  
“Oh well,” says Callum, reaching round to click off the kettle. “If yer pullin’ out all the stops, I could be persuaded.”  
Bed is where they do still seem to gel. There’s no effort needed to understand each other between the sheets, and no pretence or deceit. Ben can still send Callum into raptures with his mouth, and Callum will always drive Ben to distraction with every thrust of his hips once he’s inside him. No lies, no forced responses, just natural pleasure taken in each other’s bodies. Afterwards, Ben lies in Callum’s arms and wishes he could be different. He wishes he didn’t have to lie to him, wishes he could be the decent, honest boyfriend Callum deserves. If everything goes according to plan on the morning of the twelfth, he promises himself he’ll never lie to him again. His dad will be out of his life, and he and Callum can finally settle into domestic bliss.

The night before they’re due to fly out, Callum’s buzzing, packing and re-packing his rucksack, checking everything numerous times against a list he’d prepared the day before. Ben shoves a few bits and pieces into his own rucksack and tries to still his nerves. What if everything goes wrong? What if he can’t get across to the airport in time after the cars arrive? If it all works out, he tells himself he will spoil Callum something rotten while they’re away. He’s going to be five thousand quid better off; he’s going to spend it re-setting their relationship, in a final irony that he’s sure would rile Phil if he ever learnt about it. He won’t though. That’s the thing. Once those cars are off Ben’s hands and he’s received payment, he will never be having anything to do with Phil ever again. He owes that much to Callum, and maybe to himself, too.

The morning of the twelfth, he keeps a close eye on the clock as Callum flits around him checking and re-checking he’s got tickets, passport and phone charger. Ten past seven. He takes a last mouthful of his coffee and stands up, clearing his throat. He’s practiced this in his head. He aims for natural.  
“Babe, I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to pop over to the lot.”  
Callum stops stock still, paperwork in his hand. “What?”  
“I’ll have to pop into the lot.” Ben makes a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. “Security alarm’s going off. It’ll only take me a sec to re-set it. Pain in the arse though.”  
“OK, well we can do that on the way, take a detour.”  
“No! Listen, you head to the airport, make the most of the duty free, and I’ll catch you up soon as I can.”  
He can’t bear the look on Callum’s face. It speaks of all his fears coming true. It speaks of knowing Ben’s been keeping secrets from him, and knowing, too, that this is probably the end for them. Ben busies himself fastening his rucksack and checking his passport’s in the front pocket. “Go on, I know ya like the whole airport experience. I don’t wantcha to miss it. I’ll be there before ya know it, OK?”  
Callum steps up very close to him. The look in his eyes is devastating. “The flight’s at eleven thirty, Ben. Gates’ll close by eleven. If you ain’t there - ”  
“I will be! Promise ya.”  
“If you ain’t there, we’re finished” He nods to reinforce his point. “I mean it, Ben. I know you’ve bin lyin’ to me. I don’t know what’s goin’ on for ya, and I don’t wanna know, but I know it’s dodgy, and if ya don’t show up, we’re through.”  
Ben swallows hard, and reaches out to grip Callum’s hips. “I. Will. Be. There.” He plants a kiss on Callum’s nose. “There ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

Quarter to eight. The second hand on the clock in the office sticks momentarily and then resumes its slow passage around the clock face. Ben sits at his desk and stares at it, watching time passing. There’s no sign of the delivery lorry yet. Outside, the junction of Victoria Road and Truman Road is busy with rush hour traffic. Ben taps his fingers on the desk, glancing every few seconds at his phone. No messages.  
He steps outside and unlocks the barrier to the lot, ready for the delivery when it arrives. Across the road they’re putting up new billboard posters. Ben watches for a while, finding himself soothed slightly by the action of the brushes smoothing out the paper. The poster emerges section by section. A massive picture of a beach, turquoise water and white sand. The strapline rolls out across the billboard, word by word. Take a trip to heaven.  
Five to eight. No sign. Back in the office Ben powers up his computer and keys in the details of his trip to the airport, trying to work out which would be the quickest route at this time of day. There are severe delays on a good number of the underground lines, including the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow, and he curses. How many miles would it be by taxi? The site tells him it’s twenty-seven miles and should take one hour and twenty-three minutes. If he’s delayed at the car lot until nine, he’ll get there by ten-thirty if he’s lucky, which would give him half an hour to get through security and find his departure gate. It’s not enough. He can’t chance any last-minute delays. The absolute latest he can leave is eight-thirty; twenty past eight to be on the safe side. He takes a deep breath, trying to still the butterflies in his stomach. He can’t leave here before the cars arrive, his dad would kill him. How long does it take to off-load fifteen cars from a lorry? He tells himself it’s OK. They’re due any minute, and it can’t possibly take any more than half an hour to offload them.  
He distracts himself by looking up train times to Heathrow. If he can get a tube, there’s a train that leaves Paddington at nine twenty four, and another at nine fifty seven. The journey time’s only fifteen minutes. He prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that the Piccadilly Line starts running properly again. He offers up a prayer to Gladys too, for good measure. Maybe she can put a word in for him. She always did love Callum.  
Ten past eight. He’s standing on the corner of Victoria Road looking up and down for any sign of a car transporter. Nothing. His phone pings. He grabs it from his pocket. It’s a text from Callum. You on your way? Avoid tube, signalling problems.  
He feels like crying. He texts back I know babe. On way. See you soon. He tells himself it’s the last time he will ever lie to Callum. If god, or Gladys, or whoever’s up there looking down on him gets him out of this mess, he will never lie again.  
He’s getting frantic. There’s still no sign of the cars and no messages telling him what’s happening. He keys in his dad’s number. It rings out.  
He shoves it back in his pocket just as it pings with another message. It’s his dad. Delivery delayed in Blackwall Tunnel. Sit tight.  
No, no, no! It’s never going to get here in time for him to get to the airport. The panic is rising in his chest. He runs back into the office and tries to figure out what he can do. If he doesn’t play his part in this deal, his dad will kill him slowly and surely. He’s seen what Phil’s capable of when he’s angry, and if Ben lets him down one more time, that’ll be it. Ben can already see the disdain on his dad’s face, hear the scorn dripping from his words. Quite apart from anything else, Phil’s businesses will go under without the cash injection from this deal. Can Ben really live with himself if that happens?  
On the other hand, he’ll lose Callum. He’s already laid it on the line: if Ben doesn’t go on holiday with him, they’re over.   
But Phil’s family. You should always do right by your family, shouldn’t you? Phil will be around long after Callum’s moved on, because let’s face it, no one ever stays with Ben. What if he chooses Callum at the expense of his dad and then is left with nothing?   
Ben snatches out his phone again and keys in Jay’s number. It goes to answerphone. “Jay, phone me as soon as ya get this, please. It’s urgent.” He glances up at the clock. “It’s twenty-five past eight. I need ya to phone me urgently.”  
Callum had said he and Ben were family; that you can choose your family and it’s not always the one you grew up with. Is he right? Can they stay the distance? Ben’s not so sure, given how they’ve been with each other recently. While he waits for Jay to phone him back he lays his head on his arms on the desk and tries to take deep breaths. He has no idea what to do. What a choice! Loyalty to a blood relative who treats him with disdain, or a leap of faith with a bloke who says he can’t trust him.  
Ben picks up his phone and calls Jay again. C’mon, c’mon! Still no answer. He sobs in frustration as he cuts the call. Eight thirty-three. He’s going to have to make a choice. He can’t let his dad down. There’s so much riding on this deal. He’ll have to stay.   
He thinks about calling Callum, telling him he can’t go with him. Knocking the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. He thinks about how Callum had cooked poached eggs on toast for him after what was supposed to be a casual hook-up. About how he’d called round with whisky to toast Gladys after her death, even though he and Ben had broken up. He thinks about how Callum had glued Gladys’ china ornament together again, like he’d always been the one to try and keep their relationship glued together.   
Ben’s going to choose family. He slams his hand down on the desk as he stands up. He’s choosing family. And not the one he grew up with.  
He races to secure the barrier outside and then locks the office door. Running out to Victoria Road, he flags down a taxi. “Heathrow airport please mate.”  
The taxi driver sucks in a breath and answers him in a slow drawl. “Gonna take you long time in this traffic mister.”  
“Just drive as fast as ya can, please,” pleads Ben.

So many vehicles. Taxis and delivery vans and motorcycle couriers and buses and bikes. Pedestrians, too, stopping the traffic at regular crossings, until Ben wants to scream at how slow their progress is.  
He sits back and watches the meter ticking over, drumming his hand on his knee. This journey’s going to cost him a fortune, but it’ll be worth it if it brings him back to Callum. Fifteen minutes later they’re only just at the Albert Square end of Victoria Road. They take a right turn and then a left, and suddenly they’re on a faster road. The meters clicks over, one mile, two…and then they’re approaching another traffic jam. Ben curses under his breath. “Ain’t there a quicker way you can go, mate?”  
“This the best route,” says his driver, unflustered. “Just gotta go with the flow, man.”  
The radio in the taxi is tuned to some perky commercial station, the presenter giving regular travel updates in a tone that suggests London rush hour is the most exciting thing that can happen to any human being ever. Ben tries to tune out chirpy updates about delays in the Blackwall Tunnel and an accident on the Edgeware Road causing slow-moving traffic, and insipid pop songs about lost love and pining. Every now and again the taxi radio crackles into life, a tinny voice from the control office enquiring about the whereabouts of one or other of the fleet of taxis.  
Quarter past nine. Ben takes out his phone and tries to get hold of Jay again. Still, it goes to answerphone. Well that’s it. Ben’s made his choice, nailed his colours to the mast. He’s turned his back on Phil and probably ruined his businesses into the bargain. He can only hope Phil will turn his back on him in return, but that would be the best-case scenario. Ben hates to think how he’s going to retaliate when he learns that Ben’s let him down. Again. Another episode in the long-running series of Ben never measuring up. Never being a proper man.  
The traffic thins out again and they manage to hit twenty-five miles an hour for all of five minutes. Ben has no idea where they are. He sees signs for the West End, for Marble Arch, Paddington, and his hopes rise, but then the taxi takes an unexpected turn and he’s lost again.  
Twenty to ten, They’re stuck in traffic again. Callum texts him. Only just got here. It’s packed! You far behind me?  
Ben bangs his head on the window in despair. What can he say? He’s no idea where he is, but he knows he’s running out of time. He punches in a quick message. Took a taxi. On my way.  
He leans forward to the driver. “How much longer, mate?”  
“Long time,” says the bloke. “Long time.”  
Ben groans in frustration. “Ain’t there another way you can take?”  
“What time you need to be there?”  
“Quarter past ten.”  
The driver just sucks his teeth and shakes his head a little. “I try.”  
Ben’s phone rings just as a text arrives. He picks up the call. In the background he can hear tannoy announcements and the sound of crowds. It’s Callum.  
“Ben where are ya?”  
“I’m on me way babe. I’m gettin’ there as fast as I can.”  
“It took me nearly two hours,” says Callum. “And I ain’t even got through security yet. There’s queues a mile long.”  
Ben swears under his breath. “Just wait for me babe, yeah? Please?” He stares out the window at a cyclist edging past the taxi on the inside kerb. At least someone’s moving in this gridlock.  
“Did ya manage to get the car locked up again?”  
“Yeah, dunno how it was unlocked. I’ll havta have words with Jay.”  
There’s a silence on the line, in which Ben realises his mistake.  
“You said it was the security alarm goin’ off,” says Callum in a dangerously quiet voice. “What’s goin’ on, Ben?”  
“Cal - ”  
“You lied to me. Again. Is it somethin’ to do with yer dad?”  
“Cal, just let me get there an’ I’ll explain.”  
“Nah, you don’t need to explain anything Ben. I - ”  
“But this was the last thing! If I did this one thing I could get him off me back for good and then me and you - ”  
“I don’t wanna know, Ben. I’ll tell ya one thing, OK? If you ain’t here when the plane takes off, I am goin’ on me own, and when I come back I’ll be lookin’ for somewhere else to live.”  
“Callum!” The call is cut off abruptly. “Cal!”  
Ben throws his phone to one side on the seat, but then remembers the text that had just come in. In the rear-view mirror he can see the driver staring at him.  
The text is from Phil. Call me right now.  
Shit! So the delivery’s arrived. The car lot is locked up and there’s no one to take the cars. Looks like he’s fucked up in every which way he can. He’s desperate now. He can’t have turned his back on his dad only to lose Callum too. What can he do?  
He leans forward. “Listen mate, how close are we to Paddington Station?”  
“Five, ten minutes, depending on traffic.”  
“Right, take me there instead, OK?”  
“OK mister.” The driver veers off into a side street and begins following a maze of twists and turns that totally befuddle Ben. The taxi slows to let a bunch of schoolkids cross the road, walking two by two in little high-vis vests, their teachers at either end of the line fussing like mother hens. Ben feels like sticking his head out the window and yelling at them to speed up. His future happiness is at stake here.  
Finally, Paddington Station comes into sight. As they’re descending the incline down to the taxi drop-off point, Ben’s phone rings. It’s Jay, sounding sleepy.  
“Jay! Where are ya?”  
“Sorry boss, had a lie-in cos I wasn’t due in til later. Me phone was out of juice. What’s the emergency?”  
Ben’s wrangling with his rucksack now, searching for his wallet in the front pocket and balancing his phone between head and shoulder. “I’ll call ya back in two minutes,” he says, hanging up before Jay has a chance to reply. He throws his money at the taxi driver and runs from the taxi without waiting for his change. “Thanks mate!”  
“Mind how you go mister,” calls the driver. “Hope you get there on time for your lady.”  
There are long queues at the ticket booths. Ben runs towards the machines instead and waits behind a couple of Japanese tourists and three skinny goth kids. Nine fifty-two. Ben cranes his neck, trying to see which platform the train to Heathrow will leave from. It’s on the far side of the crowded station. Of course it is! He curses his luck for the umpteenth time that morning and pulls out his phone to call Jay back. He doesn’t even give him time to speak when he picks up.  
“Jay! This is important. Go to the lot right now and see if the delivery lorry’s still there. They might be waitin’ around.” Even as he says it, he realises the futility of even trying. He’s got to be sure he’s done everything he can though. “Understand? Don’t do anything else; don’t stop for yer brekkie, just get there as quick as ya can. Text me when ya get there, OK?”  
Jay seems to grasp the urgency of the situation. He blurts out a “Yes boss”, before cutting off the call.  
The Japanese tourists at the front of the queue are clearly confused about what they’re doing. Ben glares at the backs of their heads as they press the wrong bit of the screen and have to start again. He waits so long and then strides to the head of the queue. “Havin’ problems, are we? Let me show ya how to do it.”  
They nod gratefully at him as he punches in his request for a single ticket to Heathrow. “See? Choose yer journey first. Decide if ya want underground tickets and then confirm. Then you part with the readies.” He shoves his payment card in the slot and punches in his pin number, then waits for the tickets to fall into the dispensing slot below. The tourists hold out their hands as if they think he’s just bought them their tickets, and frowns spread across their faces as he pockets his card, wallet and the tickets. “Now you try,” he says, nodding encouragement.  
As they peer down at the screen again, he turns to be met with the gazes of the goth kids, who are whispering among themselves and looking scandalised. He takes a quick step towards them and lets out a loud “huh!” and they all step back in unison. Ben smirks. “Yeah, not so scary now, are ya?”  
He takes off, running as fast as he can across the station towards platform eleven, dodging commuters clutching briefcases and cardboard cups of coffee, and tourists moving slowly and haphazardly with suitcases on wheels that threaten to trip him up, and families with little kids that threaten likewise.  
Nine fifty-five. As he gets to the platform there are whistles sounding and doors being slammed on the train. He sprints down the platform as far as he can go before he runs out of time and grasps the handle of the nearest carriage door, pulling it open and leaping inside. As he slams the door shut behind himself, the lights go on indicating that the doors are being locked prior to departure.  
There are no seats. The train is packed. He makes his way down the aisle but then ends up sitting on the floor outside the toilet at the far end, desperately trying to regain his breath. He relaxes a little. The train will be at Heathrow in fifteen minutes. That gives him ages to get through security and find his departure gate. He allows himself to be soothed by the motion of the train and imagines the big reunion with Callum, running across the concourse to throw himself into his arms like they do in the movies. He catches himself and laughs at his ridiculousness. Things like that don’t happen in real life. He’ll just be glad to be by Callum’s side as they board the plane. He doesn’t doubt that Callum will be arsey with him, but he can work with that. He can explain that his dad put him in an impossible situation but that he chose Callum. He will always choose Callum. He settles back with a smile. The chaos and panic of the morning’s been worth it, even if only to prove beyond all doubt that he will always choose Callum.  
He thanks Gladys that he’s by the door as the train draws into Heathrow. He waits impatiently for the locks to release and then fumbles with the door handle and leaps down, running towards the tunnel that will take him to the airport concourse. He’s brought up short when he gets there. It’s mayhem. It seems like the world and his wife has decided to go on holiday on the twelfth of September. Queues snake along the concourse for a good hundred meters, and that’s just to get through into the security lines. He digs out his boarding pass and passport, ready to shove them at the scanning machine when he gets there.   
His phone pings with a message. It’s Jay. No sign boss. Think they got tired of waiting.  
So that’s it. He’s left his dad to go under and their relationship is ruined for good. He notices he’s received two missed calls and a string of texts from Phil. He pulls them up as the queue moves forward at a snail’s pace.   
9.49am: Call me Ben. What the hell are you playing at? They’re waiting at the lot.  
9.57am: You’ve got til 10 to get your arse to the lot. They won’t wait.  
10.07am: Have you done this on purpose? You trying to ruin me? Call me when you get this. Where the hell are you?  
10.22am: You never fail to disappoint me. You never step up. You’re a useless piece of shit Ben. Might of known I could never trust a poor excuse for a man like you. You have never once helped me out when I needed it. You’d better work out a way of sorting this. Stop ignoring my messages!  
Ben presses the phone to his chest and glances around to check no one’s been reading the messages over his shoulder. He closes his eyes momentarily, and then deletes all the texts.   
Finally, he’s through the turnstile and into the security hall. The line to the security scanners snakes in a zig-zag at least four deep. It’s ten twenty-seven. He curses, and calls Callum’s phone.  
He’s beginning to think Callum isn’t going to answer, but just as he readies himself to cut the call, he hears Callum’s voice. He sounds sullen, tired.  
“What?”  
“I’m here, In the queue for security. How long did it take ya?”  
He hears Callum huff out a breath as he considers his question. “Twenty-five, thirty minutes, maybe?”  
Shit! “You’re kiddin’?”  
There’s no reply from Callum.  
“Babe, I will be there, I promise ya.”  
“You would’ve bin, if you hadn’t bin more interested in some dodgy deal with yer dad, Ben.”  
“That ain’t fair! I had no choice.”  
“You always have a choice, Ben.”   
Callum cuts off the call.  
He finally gets to the conveyor belts and dumps his belongings in one of the sturdy grey trays, fumbling with the laces to his trainers before he can get them off. Ten fifty one.  
Through the scanner and a quick pat-down from the security officer, then over to the conveyor belt to pick up his belongings. A security officer is conferring with a colleague, resting a hand on Ben’s tray, preventing it from travelling down the conveyor belt towards him.   
Ben stares at him expectantly.   
“This yours, sir?”  
“Yeah. Look I’m in a rush, gonna miss me - ”  
“We need to take a closer look. Just waiting for someone to be free. Wait there at the end, would you please sir.”  
“No, no no! You don’t understand. I - ”  
The officer turns his back on Ben.  
Ten fifty-three. A security officer approaches. “Did you have any toiletries in here, sir?”  
“What? Yeah.” Shit! He’d forgotten to take them out of his luggage. He curses himself, feeling close to tears, as the officer slowly and methodically opens his rucksack and sorts through the contents. He pulls out a can of deodorant from Ben’s washbag and takes it over to a colleague.  
“For god’s sake! Is that really necessary?” demands Ben.   
“Just settle down sir please,” says the officer. “This could take a lot longer if you don’t comply.”  
Ben busies himself with putting his shoes back on, and takes deep breaths, trying to fight the tears of frustration that are springing up at the back of his eyes. Ten fifty-five. He’s never going to get there in time. He’s fucked up.  
The officer comes back over and places the deodorant to one side. You can take the rest sir, but we’ll hold onto this. Thank you for your patience.”  
Ben is left to shove his belongings haphazardly back into his rucksack and race off through duty free to the departure gates. Even as he gets to the wider concourse he can hear the announcement over the tannoy. This is the last call for flight EZ2735 to Ibiza. Will all passengers not already boarding please make their way to gate seventeen. Last call for flight EZ2735 to Ibiza.

He runs as quickly as he can through dawdling holidaymakers, searching for gate seventeen as he does so. He’s directed down a corridor with other people heading for gates ten to twenty-five. So many people, and none of them seeming to be in a hurry. Gate ten, eleven, twelve. A right turn towards gates thirteen to twenty. Gate thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. A large group of American tourists blocking the entire corridor, suitcases parked haphazardly across the floor as they say goodbyes to one element of the party. Ben manoeuvres between them and keeps on running. Gate sixteen. Another turn towards gate seventeen and -   
An empty desk. A cordon across a deserted departure lounge. A closed door. He’s too late.   
He throws his rucksack down in front of him and sinks onto the floor with his head in his hands. He’s failed. Callum is leaving without him. Callum is leaving.  
He takes out his phone and tries to call him, but there’s no answer.

In the movies, he’d be sitting there in despair and a shadow would creep across him. He’d look up and there would be Callum, falling to his knees to embrace him and telling him over and over that he’d made a mistake; that he’d thought he could live without him but he’d realised he just couldn’t. That he’d insisted they let him off the flight so he could come back and declare undying love to Ben. In movies.  
This is real life though. Moreover, it’s Ben’s life, and there are no gorgeous men making heartfelt declarations. Under a smaller version of the poster he’d seen being put up across the road from the car lot, he waits. Take a trip to heaven. He waits for a good ten minutes, still not comprehending that Callum would have gone without him, until eventually, he realises he’s not coming back. Ben can’t fix this and Callum doesn’t want to anymore. He heads home, totally destroyed.

Later that night back at the flat, after he’s lost count of how many beers he’s had, he peers around their living room with unfocussed eyes, trying to make out the many signs of the life they’d shared together. The signs that he had known love, however fleetingly. The photos of them on the walls; the picture of Paul in its frame on the bookshelf; Gladys’ china dog, cracked now but still just about holding together. He raises his beer to them all in a sarcastic gesture, his gaze finally settling on a picture of himself and Callum. He raises his beer. A toast to absent friends.


End file.
